


The Pack Survives

by Milletrye



Category: Detentionaire (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, I just love these lads way too much, Pre-Canon, So here's some angst and some fluff and everything inbetween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23197588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milletrye/pseuds/Milletrye
Summary: One thing almost nobody knows about is that A Nigma High's 15th Graders aren't actually what their name implies. But it's easier to go with than the truth, because for the most part, that truth is a bit of an ugly story. A story that goes back far further than just a few grades. In fact, it's not about school at all.This is that story, and Chopper is here to tell it.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	1. The Alpha

_"Let me tell you something about wolves, child. When the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives."_

_\-- Eddard Stark, A Game of Thrones, Chapter 22, Arya II_

* * *

When I was six, I took everything my dad said to heart. Words like the stuff above that, back then, I didn't yet know he mostly got from books or movies. And even if I'd known, it wouldn't have mattered. It doesn't matter now either, after all.

I believed him. I'll always believe him. _I was the only one who believed him when -_

Fuck. Never mind. I'm getting ahead of myself.

Where was I?

Right.

When I was six, Dad wasn't just my dad. He was my teacher. My friend. Everything, really. He taught me everything I needed to know, things nobody else would have taught a kid like me. Or any kid at all.

We didn't have much, but enough to get by, at least. Dad wasn't too big on teaching me reading or writing - that was what school was supposed to take care of -, but he taught me stuff no school in the world would ever have. How to properly defend myself against racist assholes. Or just plain assholes. Anyone that could wind up being an issue. How to read those things called hoboglyphs that are pretty much a secret language of the lost and homeless, hidden everywhere around town if you just opened your eyes.

With everything he did, everything he said, I knew he was speaking from experience. Even at that age, when I didn't actually have a clue about any kind of bigger picture.

I knew he was genuine. I knew he wanted me to know these things not just because they were awesome to a boy my age that was all about action and adventure and other empty words like that, but because he thought I might actually need them one day. He cared about me. More than Mom, more than the kids at school, more than anyone else I knew at the time.

He was everything I had, everything I ever wanted to be.

* * *

When I was seven, he was gone.

I should've known something was wrong when he wasn't there for breakfast and Mom said he'd had to leave early. He never did, not without telling me the evening before. But I didn't know, didn't realize something was off until Mom picked me up at school later that day and Dad still wasn't home. No note for me, nothing. If there had been, Mom never told me.

When I asked her about it, asked her where Dad had gone, she didn't reply. Then, at last, she said she couldn't tell me. Because I wouldn't understand, not yet, not until I was older - that bullshit excuse adults use when they don't want their kids to know about something they have every right to know about.

Dad never used that excuse. Dad told me everything, because he knew he didn't need to sugarcoat shit for me. The sooner I knew how to deal with this sometimes messed up world we lived in, the better.

And that's what I told her. "No", I yelled, "No, Mom, you have to tell me because Dad would have if he was here!", and then, when she still refused, "Then I'll just wait for him to come back so he'll tell me himself!"

Which was when she started to cry and ruined my life with just four words that she somehow managed to utter.

"He's not coming back."

That was when I started to cry as well. Not because I was sad - or maybe I was, but I didn't care at the time -, but because I was angry. "Why not?", I yelled, to the point where she flinched back because I guess I must've looked pretty terrifying with those naturally amber eyes I had. At that age, I didn't yet know what amber really meant - I had trouble telling red and green apart, so those colors looked yellow all the same and all I knew about my eyes was how unusually bright they were - but I'd heard people comment on them before. The two of us had special eyes, Dad had told me, and I was willing to use that to my advantage if I could.

Such as when Dad was gone and I had no idea why.

Maybe it was because of my eyes, but eventually, Mom actually gave me some sort of information. "He got into a fight last night", she said.

"Did they kill him?", I blurted out, fists clenched. "They did, didn't they? I'm gonna find them, and I'm gonna -"

"Matthew, no", she dared interrupt me, still looking horrified at what I'd just said. "They didn't do that; he's alive, but -"

"But what? Did they hurt him? Is he at the hospital?"

"No", Mom replied, and then she finally seemed to realize that she could tell me after all. "Caleb - your father -, he's… he's the one who killed someone."

Those words hit me like a punch in the gut. I couldn't even yell at her. Only stare. "What?"

She proceeded to tell me about stuff I didn't understand at the time, stuff whose details I didn't give a shit about because all they came down to was "he killed someone" and "he'll be on trial soon" and _"you're never going to see him again because nobody gives a shit about you or your dad or the fact that he'd never have done such a thing and the world is just as awful and cruel and unfair as he always told you it was"_.

She didn't say that last part, but that's what it came down to, in the end.

I wouldn't see Dad again.

Because they didn't let him talk to me one last time before they sent him off to jail for something he _never even did_ , that much I was sure about. Because Mom refused to let me visit him, ever, because "that'd only make things worse" and it was _her_ who was too much of a coward to deal with any of this.

I wasn't a coward though.

After all, Dad had taught me everything I needed to know. Everything I needed to make it without having to rely on that person that still dared calling herself my mother.

The next morning, I was gone, and I wasn't planning on coming back.

Too bad the world decided otherwise. It only took the police a few hours to find me, and I was right back where I'd started.

So I tried again. And again. And got better at staying away from the cops, time after time, because no matter how often they decided to take me back to the place I didn't call home anymore, I wasn't just going to stay there. I couldn't, not after everything that had happened, with Dad gone and Mom being someone I didn't want anything to do with.

I stayed out on the streets for days at a time, sometimes even getting close to a week. It wasn't always easy, sure, but God, did it feel like the right thing to do. I got used to it pretty quickly, just by reading the signs Dad had shown me and by getting to know the people who were dealing with the same shit as me, in one way or another. Some of them were jerks, sure, but others? A better family than the woman who did nothing but cry and yell at me whenever I was forced to show up at her place again.

It was learning by doing, the time on the streets. Lots of shit you have to figure out by yourself. On one of the first nights I spent out there, I found a lighter, something that seemed like a useful tool to keep around. Turned out the thing was broken though - still functional, but with the flame not coming out the way it's supposed to. Got me a nasty burn all along my left hand when I tried it out, but I kept it anyway.

Like most things in my life, even that broken piece of garbage proved to be a great investment once I got used to what made it different from the rest.

I didn't stay Matthew, either. I never hated my name - and I still don't, nowadays -, but it wasn't really something that fit the kid I'd become. So I chose to go by something else. By Chopper, after a dog from a movie Dad and I used to watch every once in a while, not because I'd actually done something to earn that name - although I didn't stop anyone who chose to believe that version of the story. That mostly came down to my classmates back in school, because for some reason people still wanted me to go there, no matter how scarcely I actually showed up. Needless to say, I skipped class a lot, even when I wasn't living out on the streets for once, and beat up everyone who attempted to talk shit to me. Or about me. I was good at standing my ground, and I wasn't afraid to show them that they'd messed with the wrong guy.

Of course, that only caused me more sessions with the principal and with Mom, and with the police who, at that point, probably knew me better than anyone else they had to deal with. After all, we kind of wound up with one another every other week or so, whether I liked it or not. Every time, I could only stay under the radar for so long before someone noticed those cursed amber eyes of mine and knew immediately who I was. At least - and I was pretty sure of that after my many run-ins with these guys - they hated it as much as I did, so that gave me some mild satisfaction. If they couldn't leave me be, I could at least keep pissing them off.

Or so I thought.

* * *

When I was eight, they had enough. At first it kind of seemed like the usual routine, me staying out on the streets for a couple days and nights before they figured out my location and picked me up with their car, only to fruitlessly lecture me in there and then drop me off at my used-to-be-home. But that day, they didn't lecture me.

And they didn't drop me off at my mom's place.

The second I realized they were taking me somewhere else, I yelled at them, desperate to find out what was going on. When they refused to give me a useful answer, I tried getting out of that stupid car, but of course, I didn't get far with those doors they'd locked. I asked the cops if my mom knew about this, to which they replied that she'd fully agreed to what was going to happen, so then I spent the rest of the drive glowering at them in silence. Feeling like crying, but refusing to do so around anyone I couldn't stand. So, kind of everyone, at the time.

Before long, I could finally see what was apparently our destination: some ugly-ass concrete building surrounded by barbed wire fences guaranteed to be electric at the top. Security cameras in every corner, bars covering the tiny, evenly spaced windows on the side. I'd never actually seen such a place before, but I knew exactly what it was.

Prison.

And I sure as hell wasn't there to see my dad.

Naturally, I put up a bit of a fight as they attempted to get me in there, but an eight-year-old kid didn't stand a chance against several cops at once. So they dumped me inside one of those rooms with way too tiny windows that contained nothing but a joke of a bed and a primitive bathroom mockup as far as sink and toilet went. Nothing else in that hell of bleak white walls, just some tools for basic hygiene and the standard - to my perception - piss-colored prison getup they told me to put on by the time they came back, "or else".

"Or else", in this case, meaning a slap in the face, as I discovered later that day when they brought me some food. That was it, though, and the guard left again without another word after he'd glared at me until I did what he wanted. Taking my own clothes with him, everything but the little cross necklace I refused to take off. And still never do. Gotta have something to get me through all the shit that happened, then and now and otherwise.

It took them about a week - a week of glaring, a week of silence, a week of leaving me alone with my thoughts of spite and dread and loathing (and a hint of regret, which I wouldn't have admitted to anyone, especially myself) - before they finally decided to talk to me again, instead of just bringing me food and being altogether useless in every way. This wasn't exactly prison, they told me, since that's for grownups and all - but juvie, which pretty much came down to the same exact bullshit anyway. I was supposed to stay here until I legally couldn't anymore, all the way until was eighteen, because apparently, that's what I deserved for the stuff I'd done.

After that initial phase of them figuring out what to do with me, they sent me off to another room, which was slightly better than the first one, but then again not really because this was still juvie all the same and if I learned one thing immediately, it was that juvie was shit.

The place was shit, the food was shit, and the staff was the worst, because they were the kind of people who got what they wanted with violence. Which I could relate to, sure, but being on the shitty end of the deal kinda messes with your perspective there. So I learned to stay out of harm's way by just following their stupid rules - although, of course, I let them know just what I thought of them from time to time. I hated the place, and unlike the cops back then, it probably made their fucking day whenever they saw me that way, all angry and at the same time powerless to actually do anything about it.

Still, I got used to the new routine, because that's just what you have to do in a situation like that. Dad wasn't gonna get out of prison, I wasn't gonna get out of juvie, and in some bizarre way, that just kind of connected me to him even more. I hated the place, I hated the people that got me here, and I hated everything that had happened - and was happening - to Dad all the same.

But there wasn't much I could do, so I begrudgingly accepted my fate for the most part. Things were actually starting to be okay for a while.

That is, before the grownups got just another brilliant idea.

* * *

When I was nine, they gave me a roommate.


	2. The Omega

Like with pretty much everything else that went down in juvie, nobody told me ahead of time. I only knew I was getting company when one of the guards came to my room one day, shoved someone else inside, and slammed the door shut again with nothing more than a "try not to kill each other, midgets". Which wasn't really fair, given how I'd always been tall for my age, but I was used to that kind of comment by now.

And I definitely had other things to worry about at that moment. Just one thing, really, and that was a slightly smaller, but way bulkier person than me who I only then registered as a kid my age. No, not bulky, I realized; that guy was definitely far more fat than muscle. And he was wearing the same kind of getup I did, meaning that he was just as much of an inmate as me.

Stuck in juvie. Stuck in this room.

Stuck with me.

More than that, _I_ was going to be stuck with _him_. And even if I didn't yet know anything about this guy, what I did know was that I didn't need company. Didn't _want_ company, not when all I'd decided to do was to wait out my juvie years while letting everyone know that I wouldn't miss a thing about this place when I was finally out again. That I hated everyone in it, the staff just as well as the other inmates I saw during meals and whatnot. Some random kid wasn't going to change that.

But the random kid decided otherwise.

"Hi!", he said with a grin so wide that it bordered on terrifying, although there was nothing else about him that was. His face was round, as was his body, his hair less curly than mine but a similarly brown-hued shade of black. Big, light blue eyes that shone with more joy than I'd felt in a good two years, one of his pupils oddly off-center. Genetic, I figured; I knew that was a thing that happened sometimes. Didn't make him any less weird though.

But what was worse than all of that was that he was walking right up to me, even though I was sitting on my shitty bed and glaring at him with amber eyes that were perfect for that kind of action. He didn't seem to get the message, however, and instead raised his hand as if expecting me to shake it.

"I'm Stanley", he continued without a care in the world, sounding so _happy_ and _joyful_ that I'd have done anything to make him shut up. But he didn't. "Nice to meet you!"

"Fuck off", I snapped at him, words I'd picked up from the other kids in juvie over time. I thought I'd put all my possible frustration into that order, but this guy was either having the time of this life mocking me or really too braindead to catch on. I probably could've slapped him in the face and he wouldn't have stopped smiling his stupid smile.

Instead of leaving me be - like any sensible person would have after this -, he seemed even more painfully delighted. "I don't really think I can, you know? They said we'd be sharing this room for a while."

Which was when I slapped him in the face for real. No thinking twice about it. No regrets.

I don't know what I expected. Maybe that he'd cry, or that he'd stay mercifully silent and never talk to me again.

In any case, I didn't expect him to _giggle_. "It's okay!", he said without ever dropping his godawful grin. "You can do that, I don't mind at all."

Was I hearing that right? He _wanted_ me to beat him up? Maybe that really was some twisted pleasure of his and that was why he was acting so absolutely infuriating in every possible way. And as much as I'd have loved to let out my anger on him, if he was actually _enjoying_ it, I wasn't gonna fuel his already obnoxious happiness. So I closed my eyes, took a few calming breaths, and looked at him in a way that was hopefully meaningful enough even for him to understand.

"Look. Stanley, is it? I don't care who you are or why you're here or whatever your stupid deal is. In case you didn't get it, this is juvie, not preschool. Nobody's here to make friends, so I'd suggest you don't even try. Just leave me alone, okay? I was doing just fine these last few months without sharing my room with some obnoxious weirdo who doesn't seem to have a clue about what it means to be stuck in a place like this."

This time, I could see that I'd somehow gotten through to him. "Oh", was all he said, his voice suddenly so quiet that I could barely hear it. "Okay. Sorry." He lowered his hand, his grin shifting into a frown, and turned around to sit on his own bed, arms around his knees.

Same as me, I noticed as I looked away to scowl at the foot of my bed. It was an awful kind of feeling I was experiencing all of a sudden, the same exact feeling I'd had whenever I'd made my mom cry again by running away another time or doing something similarly shitty. Deep down, I'd always known that despite everything she'd done - or everything she _hadn't_ done, such as letting me visit Dad, let alone _her_ ever visiting _me_ here in juvie -, she hadn't really deserved the stuff I'd put her through sometimes.

And neither did this Stanley guy. Sure, he had managed to piss me off within just a few seconds, but I could hear his sobbing now. I could tell he was trying to keep it in, but it was an ugly kind of sobbing, the kind that immediately made me feel even worse. Whatever he'd done to end up here, this kid really wasn't cut out for a life like this. Maybe he'd never had to deal with anything even close to the stuff I'd gone through. He was terrified, and unlike me, he didn't have the life experience needed to cover it up.

I took a deep breath and sighed. "Chopper."

That stopped those dreadful sounds he was making, at least for now. "Huh?"

"My name", I continued, risking a glance in his direction. "I didn't tell you yet."

"Oh!", he replied; a louder, more positive _Oh_ than the one before. He lifted his head to look at me, and I could see and hear the awe suddenly in his eyes and voice. "Is that your name? For real?"

"Nah." Touching my necklace, I briefly debated on telling him where it came from, but decided to leave it to his imagination. From that reaction of his, I was sure he had plenty to spare. "My real name's Matthew. Matthew McNeal."

"That's so cool!", was what he replied, and it took me a moment to realize he was still talking about my nickname. "I always wanted a name like that! You know, like a supervillain. Or a clown! Clowns always have really cool names. I dig them a lot, you know? Clowns, I mean. They're really funny and always make everyone happy! I wanna do that too, someday. But I guess I'd need a good name for that. What do you think I should go with?"

That whole topic seemed to have gotten him right back into his overly joyful mood, and hearing him talk like that kind of made me zone out after a sentence or two. I pretty much hadn't talked to anyone for almost a year now, so this was something I doubted I'd get used to again anytime soon. But I had to, kind of, because this kid was my roommate now.

Still, I tried what I'd tried before and attempted to make it sound obvious that I, to put it simply, didn't give a shit. "How am I supposed to know? Not like it matters anyway. We won't be getting out of here for years."

"Come on, I'm sure you can think of something!", he said, all excited and overjoyed, and it occurred to me that he probably wouldn't leave me alone until I at least pretended to care.

"Fine. Stinky. Happy now?"

It wasn't a serious suggestion, of course, but once again, Stanley didn't seem to realize that. In fact, there was that awfully wide grin on his face once more, the grin that showed me I'd just made a terrible mistake. "Oooh, that's great! It's like my actual name, Stanley, but not really. _And_ it's a pun, because my last name is Moore so it's, like, stinky moor."

He started giggling at that, and I inwardly cursed myself for accidentally giving him a nickname he was this ecstatic about. Still, I supposed this was better than his ugly sobbing from earlier, so I also let out a chuckle as I glanced over to him again. "Glad you like it, Stinky."

His eyes met mine, light blue and amber, and I realized I wasn't making that up. I couldn't remember the last time I'd chuckled, not since the time with Dad still around. It was a pretty great feeling, greater than I'd felt in years. I had almost forgotten what it was like, not being consumed by anger and spite at every moment. All because of this kid that, just like my broken old lighter, took some time getting used to, but in the end rewarded it with something unexpectedly worthwhile.

Maybe having a roommate wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

To my surprise, that ended up being more than a fleeting thought. In the days that followed, I showed Stinky around, teaching him all the essential stuff he'd need if he wanted to last here in juvie. I had my fair share of firsthand experience at that point, and Stinky - who actually insisted on going by that name, something I stopped questioning pretty quickly - started looking up to me in more ways than just size. Everything I said seemed to impress him, and whenever I told him to do something, he followed the order in a heartbeat. Before long, I'd grown used to his dorky smile and his endless talks about stuff I couldn't care less about.

Some people, however, didn't.

Even though Stinky was one of the most harmless people I knew back then, even though I'd long stopped acting significantly out of line - there were some things we weren't allowed to do unsupervised. Sure, there were always guards around in general when we were all at the cafeteria or in the bleak inner yard that somehow qualified as outside, but for some reason, they didn't trust us to get to either of those places by ourselves. So whenever Stinky and I - and everyone else, I guess - needed to leave our room to go somewhere else, we were joined by a guard or two who seemed to dread this as much as we did.

As much as I did, anyway. Stinky, as usual, didn't seem to care. In fact, he was so unbothered by our unnecessary escorts that he frequently tried to engage them in conversation, and if they didn't reply - which was pretty much always the case -, he just kept on talking anyway. I didn't really mind anymore… but I could tell from the guards' strained expressions and the occasionally growled "Shut it" that he was starting to get on their nerves more and more every time.

Eventually, one day, the guard ahead of us did the inevitable. He spun around and slapped Stinky in the face without warning, so hard he staggered backwards and the noise made even me flinch. "I said _shut it,_ Moore", the man barked at him, and it was easy to see that a good amount of Stinky's face was gonna turn an ugly color pretty soon. All too familiar anger swelled up inside me, but before I could say or do anything, Stinky was back on his feet. Not even running a hand across his cheek, just smiling his trademark smile.

"Okay, sure! Sorry about that."

In response to which the guard muttered something unintelligible before turning back around and continuing our walk. Stinky actually kept his mouth shut after that, but I could tell that it wasn't because of the pain. He was probably just being polite.

Later that day, when we were back in our room and his cheek really had gotten significantly darker, I was starting to get worried. Not just because the grownups had dared to do this to him - after all, I'd known what jerks they were for months now -, but because Stinky was still acting as if everything was fine. Right now, he was stuffing two fingers into his mouth, waggling them around for a second before pulling them out again and inspecting the tiny white thing suddenly between them.

"Is that a _tooth_?", I asked, staring at it in equal parts disbelief and anger at the guard from earlier.

"Yup! Neat, huh?", Stinky replied, smiling as always, and even though I knew he hadn't minded me slapping him before, this was starting to get kind of concerning.

"Doesn't that, like, bother you? Or hurt? At all?"

Stinky shook his head. "Not really. I don't actually feel pain most of the time, you know? It just kind of tickles. Mom finds it pretty scary, but I think it's great! Clowns do a lot of stuff without getting hurt as well, so I think I'll be perfect for that someday. If they can make people happy by being funny like that, I can too."

"By being everyone's literal punching bag?", I asked, still not really believing him.

"Sure! It helped you some days ago, right?"

"I guess." Yeah, I liked letting out my anger with violence, but I wasn't gonna beat up my friend whenever I felt like it. "Is that why they brought you here? To stop you from getting yourself killed because you kept testing your limits and doing all that clown stuff?"

For one strange moment, I saw him hesitate. And then, when he finally replied, he sounded different from his usual self. Surprisingly solemn, in a way. "I don't really know, actually. They didn't tell me all that much before I got here, just that it's gonna be good for me." A hint of his typical optimism snuck into his voice. "And it is, isn't it? I never had friends before, but here I am with the best roommate in the world."

I was too taken aback to comment on that, which turned out to be no big deal because Stinky was already talking again.

"But I miss them anyway. My parents, I mean."

"I miss mine, too." I'd laid down while he was talking, head on my hands and staring at the ceiling. I'd said it without thinking, but I knew it was true. That I didn't just miss Dad, but Mom as well, no matter what had happened between us.

Once again, Stinky didn't reply immediately, but then he asked me the inevitable question. Asked me what I'd done to get stuck in a place like this. And so I told him everything, everything about Dad and how they'd put him in jail, about how I'd run away from home time and time again. I didn't take my eyes off the ceiling as I talked, didn't risk a glance in his direction. All I did was ramble, holding back the tears even though I knew Stinky was the last person who'd judge me for them. Lifting my left hand so he could see the scar I'd gotten from that lighter, and eventually, closing my eyes as I let my words fade into silence.

Stinky didn't say a word. Seconds passed, seconds after which all I heard were his footsteps. So I opened my eyes again, and there he was, smiling down at me, grabbing me before I could complain, pulling me up and into a hug I couldn't possibly get mad at him for. I couldn't be mad at anyone, or anything, at that very moment, and I couldn't hold back the tears anymore either. Stinky's heartbeat was slow, unlike my own. Calming. Pacifying.

"I don't know a lot about this place", I heard his voice, close to my ear but strangely not in an uncomfortable way. "Or about anything really. And I'm awful at judging how serious a situation is. Unlike you, with all that stuff you've been through. All that stuff you _know_. So you're gonna be my guide from here on. I'll use you to put things into perspective for me, because I'm terrible at that kinda stuff. You'll be, like… like my anchor, you know?"

"And you'll be mine", I whispered in return, finally getting over my pride and hugging him back, something I hadn't done since the time with Dad. "Thanks, Stinky. The years here are gonna be over in no time, you'll see."

Maybe that was true, maybe it wasn't. In any case, we still had to make it through our stay in juvie, and, as I learned on the very next day, that was going to be harder than I thought.

I'd expected Stinky to have learned his lesson after the guard had made his opinions clear, even more so after I'd given Stinky yet another rundown of what to do - and what _not_ to do - around guys like him.

I thought those combined efforts would've done the trick.

I was wrong.

The guards responsible for dealing with us changed every once in a while, as I'd learned in the months before. But I'd only had my escort change shortly before I met Stinky, so the guards stuck with us now were gonna remain that way for a while. Which wasn't that much of a deal, usually, only that Stinky felt the need to apologize for his behavior on the day before. Worse, he carried on into another one of his meaningless one-sided conversations, so it only took seconds for the guard to repeat his act of violence, this time on the other side of Stinky's face. Like last time, Stinky seemed blissfully unfazed, so the second we were by ourselves, I urged him again to remember to listen to what the guards wanted him to do. Stinky apologized, and yeah, he seemed genuine enough about it, but the same kinda scene kept happening regardless, during the next few times we had to deal with those guards.

Stinky assured me that he didn't want to make anyone mad at him, and I knew him enough by that point to know that was true, but at the same time, he told me he couldn't help it; that starting conversations like that was just kind of what he did without second thought. So I decided to try and reason with that guard of ours whose hatred of Stinky had grown with every minute we spent together, a bulky as hell giant who kind of looked like a prison inmate himself and whose name was Decker if I was deciphering that name tag right. Reading had never been my strong suit with how much I'd skipped school back in the day, and juvie wasn't really doing anything to change that.

At this point, Decker was dead-set enough on getting Stinky to shut up that he was actually bringing a taser with him these days. To my relief and the guard's frustration, that thing didn't hurt Stinky either, but still, I couldn't just keep watching this asshole mess with my best - and only - friend.

So I stood up to Decker eventually, glaring at him with my conveniently unsettling amber eyes. Telling him to leave Stinky alone, because there wasn't anything wrong with being this energetic and outgoing and so wonderfully not-yet-ruined-by-this-place like everyone else.

Still, I was just a nine-year-old in the face of a wall of a man, and he seemed more amused by my tantrum than anything. "So he's your friend, yeah?"

I managed a nod that I hoped looked as fierce as it did in my head.

Not that it mattered. The slap in the face came all the same, though it wasn't a particularly harsh one. "You're not here to make friends, you know that, McNeal?"

"Whatever", I muttered, this time hoping I didn't sound as scared as I felt. No, the slap hadn't hurt all that much, but from the corner of my eye, I'd seen Stinky flinch at it anyway.

And from the look Decker was giving the two of us now, I knew he'd seen it too.

He didn't comment on it further, and we somehow managed the rest of the walk without any more incidents. Still, the next time we had to deal with one another, I was more wary than usual, knowing that he'd take any wrong word of mine as a reason to mess me up. So I was bracing myself for the inevitable taser strike at Stinky, determined not to give Decker the satisfaction of showing any kind of reaction.

As expected, Stinky was trying to fill the silence with some sort of joke I was too nervous to hear the punchline of. My eyes were on Decker, his hand already on his taser, though he was still leading the way and hadn't turned around yet. "Shut it, Moore", he growled, just like every other time.

And just like every other time, Stinky did anything but. "I wasn't finished yet! It's one of my favorite jokes, you know, because -"

I didn't hear the rest of it. Suddenly, without a warning, there was a sting near my waist, a searing pain that spread further across my body. A pain that numbed my limbs yet at the same time put every muscle on edge, a pain that made me scream my lungs out as it became too much to bear. My vision started to blur, and if anyone else was saying something, I couldn't pick it up over my cries and the inability to form a coherent thought. I had the feeling I'd pass out any moment now, virtually _begging_ my body to do just that, but I didn't. I wanted to, wanted to escape whatever this was, and yet I didn't drop unconscious. This hellish pain went on, and on, and on.

At last, after an eternity, it was over. The sting was gone, and although I could still feel the energy surging through my body and the arms that dragged me back up when my legs gave in, the pain was slowly starting to go away. But I was still shaking, still crying, and with my head still spinning, what I could eventually make out as Decker's voice was hardly more than a distant blur. Still, I knew exactly what had happened.

This time, Decker hadn't attempted to hurt Stinky. Instead, the other guard, the one whose name I hadn't bothered to remember because he never talked anyway, had used his taser on me. And I knew why, even before my vision cleared enough for me to notice how hard Stinky was crying right now.

They couldn't hurt Stinky directly. But they could hurt him by hurting me.

And it worked. I was lucky we'd been on our way back to our room that time, because the second we got there, they pretty much shoved me onto my bed since I still wasn't able to take a single step by myself. After they'd slammed the door shut, Stinky was by my side immediately, crying and apologizing and being so painfully miserable that I muttered at him to leave me alone. And so he did, for the entire rest of the day, while I was just lying there in utter exhaustion, trying to get my senses back in order. The next time Decker and the other guy picked us up, I managed to walk on my own again, but Stinky, for once, didn't say a single word.

"See? Not that hard now, is it, Moore?", was the way Decker sent us off once we'd reached our destination, and my loathing of him grew even stronger than it already was. Still, I didn't say anything, and neither did Stinky.

And I hated him even more for that.

It didn't stay just one taser attack. No, Decker and the other guy made use of it every time Stinky let out even a single sound in their presence. Which was less and less often as the days went on, much to my body's relief and my inner thoughts' turmoil. They'd found a way to make Stinky just like the rest of us, a shell of what kids our age were supposed to be, all so they could feed their superiority complex and get some twisted enjoyment out of it.

And I wasn't gonna let them get away with that, not when it was about the best friend I'd ever had. They'd made him terrified of the tasers by now, and even though it had been days since they last used them - done with that for good, I supposed, because Stinky had finally internalized keeping silent around those guys -, he was hardly talking to me anymore, not at all like the way things used to be. It was the worst when we were taking our daily shower and he could see the bulging black mess that had formed at my right waist, just where they'd struck me with the taser so many times. It wasn't just a single lump, but spreading a terrifying distance across half my back and stomach; little dark lightning shapes that weren't ever gonna go away again. It was disturbing, all things considered, and I was glad my clothes were fully covering it up most of the time.

Had Decker been allowed to do that to me? Or was this something I could talk to his higher-ups about? Whatever the case, it didn't really matter. Nobody'd cared about Dad when they'd passed their judgement on him, and no one was gonna care about me, either.

Still, I knew both Stinky and I were growing more miserable with every day, and I couldn't keep letting that happen. I couldn't let Decker win.

So one evening, when Stinky and I were stuck in our room with nothing to do, just chasing our own respective thoughts, I decided to turn things around.

"It isn't your fault, you know", I said, staring at the ceiling as I'd done so many times before.

"‘Course it is", Stinky replied, his voice not having radiated his usual cheer in days. "They hurt you. They hurt you really badly and it's all because of me."

"Yeah, because _they_ thought you were being an issue. No matter if you actually were. You didn't do anything wrong, Stinky. They're just jerks, okay? Jerks you shouldn't believe a word they're saying."

"But -" Stinky hesitated. "But nothing would've happened to you if I'd just done what you said. Aren't you mad at me for that?"

I sat up at last, noticing that he was sitting on his bed as well, slumped and drained of his usual energy. "Why would I be? Just because they don't appreciate you doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you." I frowned, looking away for a moment. Touching my necklace as I usually did in moments like this. "My dad told me this kinda stuff ages ago. He said there's always gonna be people who'll hate you for stuff you can't control. Feelings, appearance, those kinda things. But that doesn't mean they're right about you. Most of the time they're just jerks who pick on you because you let them, so all you gotta do is stand by who and what you are. And find yourself some people who've got your back no matter what."

I cracked a smile at him, although I didn't know if my eyes got the message across with that eerie color of theirs. "We're like that, you and I. A pack. And in a pack, nobody leaves the others behind."

And then there it was, that spark I hadn't seen in his eyes in so long. That smile I had really missed seeing on his face. "I like that", he told me. "And it's a lot better than what I said about anchors."

"Me too", I agreed, my smile widening into the hint of a grin. "I can't really swim anyway."

Before I knew it, I was on my feet, and then right in front of Stinky. This time, _I_ was the one who pulled _him_ into a hug, and he replied with that wonderful giggle I hadn't heard from him in days. It was a sound too wholesome for juvie, too wholesome for Decker and the other jerks around the place, but I wasn't gonna let that stop us.

We were a pack, Stinky and I, and we were gonna make it through this. Together, without letting anything or anyone get in our way.

It was a mindset that worked wonders in the months that followed, one that carried us through the changes in our assigned guards and everything else that happened. Which wasn't much, really, because this was still juvie more than anything and pretty much nothing interesting ever happened here, especially when they'd already assigned you a roommate and there wasn't much else they could surprise you with.

That's what I thought, anyway.

* * *

When I was ten, they proved me otherwise.


	3. The Beta

Stinky and I weren't the only kids stuck in juvie, of course. But I'd never cared much about the other inmates, partly because most of them were already older than me and partly because, during my first year at this place, I hadn't been too keen on making friends since I'd been busy hating everything and everyone around me. Now that I had Stinky, that wasn't really the case anymore, but still, I preferred letting everyone else mind their own business. The few times Stinky had tried to engage in conversation with another inmate, they'd just insulted him and let everyone else know just how much of a weirdo he was, so that only kind of proved my point on the matter.

That was why Stinky and I kept to ourselves, just the two of us. Only hanging out with one another, which wasn't that bad anymore now that Stinky'd come back to his usual cheerful self when the guards weren't around. And yeah, it was easy enough to get by once you knew how to stay out of trouble.

But sometimes the trouble came to you instead.

One day, at lunchtime, Stinky and I were sitting at our usual table, away from anyone that could bother us. The food wasn't great, of course not, but at least nobody'd died from food poisoning yet (as far as I knew, anyway). But beyond the regular stuff we were served three times a day, there was the commissary, a place where we could buy things like snacks and tools for writing and whatever other stuff they let us own in here. We didn't have cash, just some sort of digital account with money sent by our relatives or whoever else gave a shit about us - and while that didn't amount to much for me, Stinky's parents actually seemed to care enough that he was able to buy himself some snacks pretty much on the daily. Some of which he shared with me, of course, but I'd grown used to living off of the bare minimum of food ever since my days on the streets, so I let him keep most of his loot. He liked that sweet stuff far more than I did anyway.

That day at lunch, the food was particularly bland, so Stinky decided to head to the commissary to grab us some extra spices. One of the counters was in the cafeteria, pretty close to our table, in fact, and I had a pretty good look at the staff guy passing some spices to inmates who'd had the same idea. Stinky reached the small line that had formed only moments before one of the other kids did, but luckily, that guy didn't start a fight over it.

Then it was Stinky's turn and the staff guy handed him his spices with a "That was the last one, congratulations".

The kid behind him didn't take that well.

The second Stinky turned around to walk back to our table, the other guy - short hair that I assumed was some sort of light brown, about my height but broad-shouldered and far more bulky - grabbed him by the shirt, growling a "That was _mine_ " that sounded so pissed that it was hard to believe this was just about food.

"Nah, I mean, I bought it", Stinky replied, smiling as always, and that only seemed to aggravate the other guy more. He let go of Stinky, just to immediately take a swing and make his massive fist collide with my roommate's cheek, a punch so hard it made him fall to the ground and drop the spices as he did. Anyone else would've stopped there, grabbed the spices, and left, but the other guy didn't. In fact, he looked like he was just getting started.

I could see the guards rushing in their direction already, but I was faster than them by a long shot. In just a few seconds, I was between Stinky and the other guy, staring him down with my amber eyes. His were far darker, but still yellowish to me - so, green, probably - and glaring right back, infuriated that I dared interrupt whatever he was about to do.

That was when I noticed two things.

One, this guy really was the same age as Stinky and me. Ten or eleven at most, which was pretty surprising with that massive build.

Two, I'd never seen him before, and I knew all the other inmates at least by looks and basic reputation. This guy was new here - and the sooner someone put him into place, the better.

"Leave him alone", I told him, sounding as confident as I felt. Somehow, despite this kid's muscles, I wasn't scared of him at all. _They don't expect you to stand up to them_ , Dad had told me before, _so if you show them their methods don't work around you, they won't know what to do, and you've pretty much already won._ "You think you can do whatever you want just because you're stronger than us? Well, you can't, and you're not gonna make friends that way either."

Without acknowledging him further, I turned around to see that Stinky was already back on his feet. Of course he was; that punch hadn't hurt him, after all. "Come on", I said. "Let's go."

That was the moment the guards finally reached us. I was gonna watch them deal with our new local troublemaker, but just when they were about to yell at him - or hurt him, or whatever else they were gonna do -, all the tension in his body fell away in an instant. The anger in his expression was gone, and all I could see there now was a mix of horror and indescribable sadness. He flinched when one of the guards barked a lecture at him, during which I could pick up his last name - McKinley -, and when that guy was gone, he trudged back to his table, where he was sitting all by himself and soon poking at his food without actually eating anything.

I watched him for a moment before Stinky and I went back to our own table, wondering what this other guy's deal was. Still, I decided to ignore him from now on, putting him into the same kind of "pain in the ass, don't bother" category as most of the other inmates. So I sat back down, ready to make use of the spices Stinky'd gotten us.

Stinky, however, didn't.

Instead, he grabbed his tray and walked off… into the very direction of McKinley's table. "What are you _doing_?", I asked, and when I didn't get a reply, I muttered a curse and followed him.

As I could've predicted, McKinley wasn't too happy to see us. But he didn't get mad; no, he only shot us a fleeting glance when Stinky sat down across from him and I joined him out of obligation. Then he was back to staring at his food and probably inwardly begging for us to go away.

Stinky didn't get the message, or at the very least he didn't care. After I'd used up my share of the spices and passed them to Stinky, he only put a tiny amount of them on his meal before he pushed the sachet over to the new guy with his usual smile on his face. McKinley looked at it, then up at Stinky, clearly startled by his expression.

"You can have it", my roommate assured him. "Wouldn't want your first meal here to taste awful, right?"

That made the other guy flinch again, but still, he grabbed himself the sachet with what I assumed was a muttered "thanks". He actually started eating his food after that, yet he still looked incredibly uneasy. Even more out of place than Stinky when I first met him, somehow.

" _Is_ this your first day?", I asked and couldn't help but sympathize. I still remembered my early times here, where I'd lashed out at everyone because I'd hated it all. I hadn't had anyone to help me get through this, but maybe I could try and change that for this kid. Stinky was gonna do that anyway, I could figure as much. When McKinley nodded reluctantly, still without looking at us, I added, "How long did they leave you in solitary?"

"Three weeks", he muttered again, so quiet I could barely hear it. But I did, and I couldn't believe my ears.

"Three _weeks_?", I repeated, stunned and at the same time genuinely shocked. I'd done a lot of questionable stuff, and they'd only left me in isolation for a week. Three of those - three weeks of having no idea what's gonna happen to you, three weeks of not talking to anyone or getting to leave your tiny room - was terrifying, no wonder this guy was so on edge. And yet, something really awful must've happened for him to get this long of a sentence. "Dude, what did you _do_?"

"Nothing!", McKinley insisted immediately, his voice defensive but also horrified. It was easy to tell he was lying. "I didn't do anything, alright? I mean, I did, but - no, that wasn't - that wasn't _me_ , and - and I don't belong here, I'm not a criminal, I -"

He'd closed his eyes now, hands on his head while his body was shaking. I just sat there, staring at him, unsure of what to do - or if I should do anything at all. I had no experience with anything like this, and neither did Dad, else he'd have told me about it for sure.

Luckily, I could count on Stinky. He pulled a chocolate bar from his pocket, one that surprisingly hadn't melted yet, and offered it to the other guy. "I know this place can be really scary", he said. "I was terrified when I first got here, too. But Chopper's been there for me from the very beginning, so I managed to get used to everything pretty quickly. And I stopped being scared because I knew he'd have my back no matter what."

McKinley had eased up while Stinky was talking, calmed by my friend's cheerful voice. Still, he gave me a weird look when he heard my name, something between shock and denial. "Your name's Chopper?"

"From a movie", I told him, because unlike with Stinky, leaving things to his imagination wasn't gonna be doing this guy any good. "Just some dog's name, really. But I guess you can call me Matthew if you like that better."

"And I'm Stinky", my roommate added with a grin. "Stanley, actually, but Chopper picked this really cool nickname for me."

The look on McKinley's face made me let out a sympathetic snort, because clearly he was trying to figure out how _Stinky_ could possibly qualify as ‘really cool'. "What's yours?", I asked.

"Emmett", he said, immediately wary again. "I can keep that name, right? I don't want - I mean, I don't need some special name here in... in this place?"

"We'll go with whatever you're comfortable with", I assured him, and Emmett nodded in relief. Then, he frowned yet again as he looked at the chocolate bar on the table between us.

"Why are you doing this? And talking to me? I mean, all I did was…" He trailed off, grimacing.

"We know", I said before Stinky could. "First off: Stinky here doesn't really feel pain. ‘Course I won't let you mess with him for no reason, but he, at least, doesn't really mind."

Stinky smiled at him and nodded.

"And second… you don't seem like that bad of a guy. Juvie sucks, especially when you're new around here and all by yourself, so we might as well help you get through this while we're all stuck here together. If you'd like."

Emmett looked at me again, his eyes full of gratitude, and it was the first time I really noticed how massive the bags under them were. How tired he seemed overall, with his slumped shoulders and eyes that were like dark, bottomless pits filled with unspoken horrors. "That… that'd be great. Thank you."

"No problem", I said, watching as he finally dared pick up that chocolate bar. Instead of eating it all himself, however, he divided it into three equal pieces, pushing two of them over to our side of the table with the hint of a smile. And I smiled back, sensing that we'd made the right decision following him here. "Welcome to the pack, Emmett."

* * *

The rooms in juvie were only meant for two people, meaning that Emmett didn't get to stay with us and instead had his own one several doors further down. No roommate, he told us, and he doubted he'd ever get one - something he seemed both glad and frustrated about.

Still, it meant he had no one but Stinky and me, so the three of us spent as much time together as the guards let us, during the meals and outside and whenever else we got to be together. Emmett never talked much - that was mostly me and Stinky -, but I knew our presence helped him cope with what was happening. And with what had happened to him too, I assumed; yet whenever we tried talking about his past, he spiraled back down into one of his panic attacks, so we avoided the topic as best as we could. I was able to figure that it must have had something to do with those violent fits he had from time to time when something wasn't going his way… but if he wasn't ready to talk about it, I wasn't going to force him.

Didn't stop me from being curious though. After all, I hadn't forgotten his horrifyingly long stay in solitary, and it didn't pass by me how Emmett was always escorted by two guards instead of one like the rest of the single room inmates. Neither did the way he looked when he wasn't around Stinky and me.

Whenever he saw us - and whenever he hung with us -, Emmett's expression lit up to the point where he even managed a smile more and more often as the days went on. But whenever I spotted him first, whenever he was still by himself, he looked just like I'd seen him on his first day. Tired. Regretful. Miserable. And the bags under his eyes never vanished, the fathomless depths of his gaze never cleared... even though, for what it was worth, we always got plenty of sleep in juvie.

But it was obvious Emmett didn't.

I didn't hide how concerned I was, in a different yet similar way to my first reaction to Stinky's apparent lack of pain receptors. "Are you alright?", I asked Emmett one morning he looked particularly sleep-deprived.

Even Stinky caught on, offering a "Don't worry, you'll get used to the beds here eventually" that I was sure was far from our friend's actual issue.

At least Emmett didn't pretend to be fine. He frowned down at his cereal, though that probably also had to do with how barely awake he still was. "I couldn't sleep", he told us in his usual half-muttered manner. I knew from his violent fits that his voice could be pretty loud if he tried, but we hadn't gotten him to use that voice in a more positive context yet. I was sure we could change that, though. And that started by helping him cope with whatever prevented him from having a good night's sleep.

"Nightmares?", I guessed, and from the way Emmett flinched I immediately knew I was right. But while I had some experience with this kinda stuff myself, I doubted telling him about it would help. If he had nightmares that kept him awake pretty much every night, letting him know about the rare times I had mildly unsettling dreams wasn't gonna do him much good.

"Don't the juvie guys help you with those?", Stinky asked. "I know some of the other kids here have some sort of therapy sessions sometimes."

I nodded at that, remembering how I'd picked up a mention of behavioral therapy for Stinky ages ago. Suppose they'd dropped that idea after they'd found out how efficient the tasers were.

Emmett grimaced, shaking his head slightly. "Not for me. I'm… they said I'm too dangerous to do that kinda stuff with. Because I'm so unpredictable and violent and…"

I could tell into what shitty state he was heading with those words, so I cut him off right there. "Well, the juvie guys have no idea what they're talking about. And if they don't wanna help you, we will."

Stinky nodded immediately, eyes wide and sparkling with excitement as he looked at me. "What are we gonna do?"

Of course he wanted me to make that decision, I was the natural leader of our little group. The alpha of the pack. And luckily, I already had an idea.

One thing they'll always tell you about prison is that there's one particular inmate who has access to stuff they shouldn't have. And while I can't speak for every prison out there, here in juvie, that was definitely the case. So the next time we were all outside in the inner courtyard, I sought out that very guy while Stinky stayed back where Emmett was. Like most people here, my inmate of choice was gonna be far more cooperative when being approached alone.

And there he was. Jekyll Fawkes, whether that was his real name or not. A good three years older than me and already hanging around this place back when I got here two years ago. I had no idea was he was in for and hadn't bothered to ask, but rumor had it that it actually wasn't because of cleptomanic tendencies. Which was kind of surprising, given how he was the guy I needed for that exact reason right now.

His eyes lit up when he saw me, dark little things in a sharp-edged face that had acne all over. His messy dark hair didn't look like the most hygienic thing either, but I had other things to worry about.

"Hey", I said.

"Hey." He greeted me with a smirk that showed he knew exactly why I was here. Then again, I doubted anyone talked to him for other reasons than this. "Need somethin'?"

"Sure", I replied, mimicking his casual tone. The trick was to sound and look as inconspicuous as possible so the guards wouldn't get suspicious even if they were shitty enough to eavesdrop on us. "You know Emmett? The new guy?"

"Sure", Jekyll copied my wording again, but I couldn't get mad at him for that. This was too important.

"He wrecked some of the guards' stuff earlier this week. Know what became of that?"

"Trash, naturally." Jekyll closed his eyes in a silent snort. "But someone already… you know. Took it out."

I did my best not to show my relief. Looked like I'd been right with my earlier assumption. "And how much would someone need to pay that guy if they wanted to recycle that trash?" 

"A five-course meal at the nearest restaurant, tomorrow at noon. He'll be sure to pick what he wants from the menu beforehand."

I sighed, but nodded. We'd just use Stinky's money for that. "As long as he won't be late."

All Jekyll did in reply was wink at me with that smirk of his, so I just nodded again and headed back to the others.

"And?", Stinky asked immediately. "How'd it go?"

I was glad for the coded conversation with Jekyll to be over, but at the same time, it had also been kind of fun to mess with potential eavesdroppers like that. So I just shrugged. "Looks like we have a date tomorrow."

For what it was worth, Jekyll was actually punctual. The others and I were already sitting at our usual table when he arrived at the cafeteria, so as soon as he had his food, he came right over and sat down next to Emmett, greeting us with a simple "‘Sup."

"Got the stuff we were talking about?", I asked instead, and to my relief, he nodded.

"Grab me some things from the commissary and we can have our little exchange."

A few minutes and several requests later, Jekyll seemed satisfied enough as he put various kinds of chocolate and other snacks into his pockets. At the same time, he pulled out a bag of chips, which I was pretty sure had been reduced to dust from being carried around in his pants like that. Or at least they would've been, because when I reluctantly grabbed the bag he pushed over to me, I could feel that there was something else inside. Something harder.

His part of the bargain.

"Thanks, man", I said, and he replied with his usual smirk.

"Sure thing. Don't know if they're still functional though, your pal messed them up pretty badly."

Emmett, for once, didn't flinch or look down. "I'll fix them up again. I'm not too bad at that kinda stuff."

Jekyll shrugged, and we continued our meal in relative silence after that. When we were finished, Emmett took the bag of alleged chips back to his room and Stinky and I spent the rest of the day curious about whether he'd manage to do what he said he would. We found out at dinner, when he passed the bag to me now, half as full as before. He didn't say anything as he did so, just nodded, but that was more than enough for me.

Jekyll and Emmett had gotten us a pair of walkie-talkies. And that night, we were gonna test them out.

The plan was simple enough. We'd leave both of those gadgets turned on overnight, so if Emmett woke up from a nightmare and had a panic attack, Stinky and I would hear it and be able to calm him down. And because Emmett had managed to mess with the walkie-talkies' frequency, none of the guards were gonna find out about it, which was something we definitely had to keep that way.

"I hope nothing happens tonight", Stinky said as we went to bed, to which I only replied with a nod. I hoped nothing would happen on _any_ night that followed.

But a few hours later, we both had to admit our wishful thinking.

A scream was what snapped me awake, and my eyes darted over to Stinky in alarm before I remembered what we'd set up the day before. The scream gave way to sobs and mumbled words and fast, shaky breaths, and for a moment, all I could do was exchange a horrified glance with my roommate, who'd woken up from the noise as well. Or at least that was what I supposed we were doing; my eyes still had to adjust to the darkness after all.

But I couldn't wait for that to happen. Was this what Emmett was going through almost every night? The thought alone was terrifying.

At last, I reached for the walkie-talkie I'd placed on the small table between our two beds, my hand finding it pretty quickly. "Emmett? Emmett, listen to me!" I tried keeping my voice down, tried to sound as calm and collected as possible, but I could tell the second I first said his name that it wasn't really working. How could it, at a moment like this?

Emmett went silent for a second or two before I could hear his voice again. "Sarah! No, Sarah - _no_ , I'm so sorry, please, I -"

I didn't have the time to wonder who that was. "Emmett, it's me. Chopper. Remember the walkie-talkies you made yesterday? That's how I'm talking to you right now. Stinky's here too. We both are. It's gonna be okay. I promise." I had no idea if those were the right words to say, but at least using such short, slow sentences seemed to help _me_ calm down. I could only hope it was working for Emmett too.

"...Chopper?", I heard him, quiet and hesitant. He must've grabbed his walkie-talkie as well now, judging by how it sounded like he was pretty much whispering into it. At least that meant he was listening. The worst was over, and I didn't hide my relief.

"Yeah. It's me. I'm here, okay? Just like we promised. We're not gonna leave you alone, Stinky and I. We're here."

Slowly, Stinky was getting up and making his way over to my side of the room. Sitting down on my bed right next to me, leaning over to talk into our little communication device. "Nightmares are terrible", he said in a quieter voice than usual, but still with that typical smile that I was sure even Emmett could hear. "But they're just dreams, okay? They're not actually happening right now. Not tonight. Not for real. So tonight, you can stop thinking about them, too."

Emmett didn't say anything, although I could hear that our words must've had some sort of an effect. His breathing slowed and became more steady again, his shaky sobs started coming less and less often. Whatever we were doing, it was working.

"That's it, buddy", I whispered into the walkie-talkie. "Just keep breathing. You've got this."

And so he did. Every once in a while, we added more encouraging words like that, just to make sure he knew we were still there. Eventually, after who knew how long, his breathing seemed so slow and calm that Stinky grinned at me in the hardly lit darkness our eyes had adjusted to by now. "I think he's asleep", he said.

"Sounds like it", I replied with a relieved smile, watching as Stinky went back to his bed. And he was right; it was about time we went back to sleep as well. So I put the walkie-talkie back onto its table… but not without some final words of mine. "Good night, Emmett."

It was a peaceful night after that.

The next morning at breakfast, Emmett pulled Stinky and me into a hug before we could even say Hi. "Thank you", he whispered, "Thank you so much for helping me." But then he let go, if only so the guards wouldn't get suspicious.

"Anytime", I smiled back at him, moved by the extent of his gratitude. Sure, I was more tired than usual after the night before, but I'd do it again whenever he needed me to.

As it turned out, that was almost every night. At least three times a week, Stinky and I had to talk Emmett through his panic all over again, to the point where it soon became routine. And while it was concerning, to say the least, we never got mad at him for it. How could we, when he was hoping for this to be over just as much as we did? Even buying the occasional battery from Jekyll to recharge the walkie-talkies was something we gladly put up with if it meant helping Emmett get through whatever shit he was dealing with. He kept screaming this name, too - Sarah -, and I was pretty sure he knew we could hear it every time. But he didn't bring it up, and I wasn't going to do that either. I knew he'd tell us if he ever decided that he was ready for that conversation.

* * *

When I was fifteen, that day arrived.

Over the course of the last five years, even Emmett had become used to the way things worked around juvie. He still had his nightmares, but they'd become less and less frequent as time went on, to the point where we were only dealing with maybe one panic attack a month now. We were still keeping up the stunt with the walkie-talkies, too - someone from staff had caught us with them a few weeks into the scheme, but a couple of protests and discussions with the higher-ups later, they actually decided to let us keep doing our thing. It was massively improving Emmett's mental state, after all.

Not much else had gone down in all this time, only that they were starting to drag us into various courses to help us prepare for when we were finally going to leave this place in a bunch of years. At this point, that thought wasn't as exciting as it had been years ago - we'd all grown used to the routine here and even become kind of chummy with a bunch of the staff members. We were familiar faces, after all, having spent so much of our lives within these walls. Still, saying that I actually liked it here would've been a massive stretch, so even now, Stinky was the only one of us who actually smiled on the photos they took of us for their files every year. I just kind of glared into the camera - after all, I still hadn't forgotten what Dad was going through at that very moment -, and Emmett was wearing his usual frown. Sure, he was actually smiling most of the time these days, but I suspected that occasions like these photoshoots reminded him of whatever he'd done to get here all those years ago.

Maybe that was why, one day soon after that ordeal, he was surprisingly talkative. We were hanging out in Stinky's and my room together - Emmett included, because the staff had given him special permission for that kinda thing after they realized how good of an influence we were for him -, just kind of relaxing without saying a word, when Emmett suddenly broke the silence.

"My sister", he said. Nothing else.

"Huh?" I shot him a glance from where I was sitting, back leaned against the wall. We all pretty much still looked like back at age ten, apart from the growth spurts and other signs of puberty. Except for Emmett, whose hair had grown longer than back in the day, because the staff had been so afraid of his violent fits that they'd numbed his body whenever it had been time for another haircut. I could only imagine how terrifying that must've been for him, so it was only natural that he'd rather wear his hair long than go through that shit again.

Emmett didn't meet my gaze. "Sarah. That name I kept bringing up."

"I didn't know you had a sister", Stinky put in. His current fascination was attempting to walk on his hands like people at the circus did, so that was what he was trying to do right now. But his body, still showing the signs of way too many snacks from the commissary, decided against it, and he fell onto his back with a giggle. I snorted at the sight as well, before my expression shifted into worry as I looked at Emmett again.

"She's got something to do with what happened, doesn't she?" When my friend nodded, I added, although I couldn't help but hesitate, "...think you're ready to talk about it?"

Emmett squared his shoulders, taking a deep breath. "Might as well. I kinda owe it to you guys after everything you've done for me."

It was a pretty odd sight, the way he sat there on Stinky's bed while my roommate scrambled over to my side of the room, both of us looking at Emmett expectantly. Kind of like storytime with Dad... ten entire years ago. I frowned at the thought, but I supposed this came down to pretty much the same kinda thing. Storytime with Emmett and all.

"My life wasn't bad", our friend began, half-smiling as he kept on talking. "I got along just fine with my parents, and with Sarah, too. My little sister, five years younger than me. I didn't even mind all that girl stuff she was into or anything, we were always having a great time together."

Stinky and I exchanged a glance. We could both feel the _But_ in the air.

And it came. "We never really had any major problems, money-wise or relationship-wise or whatever. Just my anger issues that made me lash out from time to time. But my family didn't mind, you know? They always declined all the more drastic options to deal with them, because they thought we were gonna get through this ourselves. I'd never caused anyone actual harm after all."

Emmett grimaced, and I did as well once I realized where he was going with this. "Shit", I muttered.

"When I was ten and Sarah was five, we were playing with some of my action figures", Emmett went on, his eyes meeting mine as he said his next few words. "But then she ended up breaking one of them."

I couldn't help but stare at him in horror, even though I had long guessed that he was here because of his violent fits. Hearing the full story from Emmett himself made everything so much more intense. So much more terrifying. I didn't give him a verbal reaction this time, but my look was enough for him to keep going, his voice quieter than before.

"You know what I'm like when I get into a fit. I can't think straight, I just… I get so overwhelmed by my anger that everything goes foggy and all my body wants to do is let out those feelings the physical way. And when the reason for my anger is right there…" A shudder went through his body, but he kept on talking anyway. "I didn't want to hurt Sarah. I'd never, _ever_ , have done even as little as shove her around. But that day, I did. And so much more than just that. And I yelled at her, and she screamed, but I didn't care - because all my corrupted brain wanted was to punish her for what she'd done. I just kept going, and going… and only stopped when she'd gone quiet and I heard my mother's screams instead. Because then I snapped out of it, and then I saw what I'd done to Sarah..." His voice had cracked while he was talking, and now it transitioned into nonverbal sobs he tried his best to fight.

I stared at him, unable to process what he'd just told us. There was a question on my mind, a question I didn't dare ask because my mouth was too dry to do that. Stinky, however, somehow managed to bring it up, even if he did it so quietly that even I, sitting right next to him, could barely hear it. "Did you… kill her?"

Emmett ignored the question, or maybe he just hadn't heard it. "They took Sarah to the hospital immediately. And I… I got brought here, no matter how much I apologized and cried and begged my parents to do something when the cops were dragging me into their car. I actually… I put up so much of a fight that they had to knock me out to get me here."

"Bastards", I muttered, but I shut myself up when I saw that Emmett wasn't finished yet.

"I woke up in solitary, with no idea where I was or what was going on… or if Sarah was alright. And nobody told me anything, not in those next three weeks they left me there without saying a word. They only explained it all when I got into the other room. But I only… I only found out about Sarah when my parents came here to visit me a week later. She survived, they said, but that was it. They never brought her up again, no matter how often I asked."

I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding, and I heard Stinky do the same. Still, Emmett's sister being alive was only a mild consolation… what he'd gone through was horrible, especially with the way the staff had treated him here. "Dude, I'm so sorry", I said, even though that hardly cut it at all.

Emmett looked at me, tears in his eyes but at the same time a gratitude that replaced the cold tension in me with unspeakable warmth. "Don't be. Stinky and you are the two people who have nothing to do with any of this. The opposite, really, because you were the ones who were actually _there_ for me. Who've always been."

"That's what you do in a pack", Stinky said, his voice already hopeful again. "Nobody leaves the others behind."

Emmett and I both nodded at that, because all three of us knew it to be true. This saying had already carried us through so much bullshit after all.

But, as I learned two years later, actually applying it wasn't always gonna be all that easy.

* * *

When I was seventeen, Emmett turned eighteen, which meant they were going to let him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a long one, this chapter... and the next one's even longer, oops ~  
> Two things worth noting: Jekyll's kind of a humanized version of one of my Homestuck OCs, Iazcul Forkas. Good lad.  
> And as far as that photoshoot goes: [here's](https://abload.de/img/mugscvk4d.png) a pic to visualize the angst :')


	4. The Pack

Birthdays weren't really a big deal in juvie, because frankly, nobody actually gave a shit. It wasn't like you got any special treatment from staff on that day, not even extra food at the cafeteria. Which was fine with me, honestly; I didn't need to be reminded of how much of my life I was wasting here at this shitty place. Stinky, on the other hand, insisted on celebrating our birthdays, so it had become kind of a tradition among us to get each other the very best stuff from the commissary whenever one of those days came up.

"Wonder if we'll ever get to do this again", Stinky said at lunch after he'd finished grinning at what we'd gotten him for his seventeenth birthday. I knew what he was getting at: Stinky was the youngest among us, the last one to turn seventeen. The next birthday - Emmett's, two months from now - would already be our friend's eighteenth. The day they were going to let him out.

I grimaced at the thought. It felt wrong to see him go after all these years; after all the stuff we'd been through together. Maybe these two months were the last we were ever gonna have between all three of us, because how would we even meet again after that? It was a thought that had started to haunt me more and more often lately, and I hated the all too likely possibility. So I was glad when Emmett spoke up now, even though I could tell he had the same kinda thoughts on his mind.

"No idea", he half-muttered. "But I was already talking to Dana earlier. She wants to have a bunch of meetings like that to sort everything out. So that I'm ready to leave and all."

"Seriously?", I asked, because this wasn't just Stinky's birthday, but also the first day of April. Not that we'd ever actually done anything for April Fools', or that Emmett ever said anything but the truth, but I still wished he was kidding. Dana was the woman in charge of all kinds of inmate affairs like that, so if she wanted to talk to you, things were actually starting to get real.

Too real for my liking.

"We're not gonna let you go, dude", I said before I could help it. "We're a pack. We've gotta stick together."

"I wish we could", Emmett nodded, shooting me one of his grateful looks that soon shifted into a frown. "But I don't think that's gonna work. Not this time."

"Says you." I stood up, hands flat on the table. Maybe it was childish; maybe I just didn't want to lose anyone else like I'd lost Dad. Especially without even trying to do something about it. "Let us come with you the next time you have a talk. We're gonna make this work."

 _I promise_ , I added silently.

Emmett frowned at me for a few more seconds, and I wondered what was going on inside his head. Had he already given up on us? He'd always been the most reasonable member of our pack, so his brain was probably telling him how rules were rules and they weren't gonna make any exceptions for some random inmates, because after all, they'd almost never done the three of us any good before. All of that was true, I knew - it was a nagging thought I was having myself -, but I couldn't let rationality get in the way of my feelings. Not when so much was on the line. I met Emmett's gaze - his dark and worried, mine almost desperate. And then, at last, he nodded, though he still seemed awfully resigned. "I'll see what I can do."

Our friend remained silent on the next few days, even more so than usual. That didn't exactly make things better. _Did I upset him?_ , I wondered. _How much effort is he willing to put into letting us stay together?_ And, most of all: _Is he gonna try what I asked him to?_

Stinky and I learned the answer to that final question when a guard opened the door to our room out of schedule. "This way", he said, nothing else. These guys still weren't fond of using too many words, but at least most of them had stopped barking their orders. We hadn't acted out of line in ages, after all.

We followed the guard to wherever he was taking us, and I couldn't help but be relieved when it really turned out to be Dana's office. We'd all been here before, such as back when they'd found the walkie-talkies or when they'd given Emmett permission to hang in our room with us. And Dana - whose last name I didn't bother to remember because she actually encouraged the inmates to use her first name - was probably one of the nicest staff members around the place. I was sure we could convince her to keep us together somehow.

We had to.

Emmett was already there when we arrived, sitting on one of the three chairs facing Dana's desk. He shot us a quick uncertain glance, which was far less reassuring than I'd hoped.

At least Dana's smile was welcoming enough. "Good morning, Matthew. Stanley. Please sit down."

And so we did. I couldn't help but notice that Emmett hadn't claimed the chair in the middle, even though this whole thing was primarily about him. Not that I minded - I was the one in charge of the three of us, so this was the best way to go about it. With Stinky to my left and Emmett to my right, I waited for whatever Dana had to say.

"Emmett told me you two would like to have a say in his future", she began, leaning back on her chair with a smile that was genuine, not forced. A good sign, I hoped. "I know the three of you have become good friends over the years, so I understand your concern… but this is about his life after juvie and therefore none of your business."

"Pretty sure it is", I pointed out. "Given how we've been taking better care of him than anyone else around this place."

Dana raised an eyebrow, frowning, while I inwardly cursed myself for the tactlessness of what I'd just told her. She didn't reply to my words, instead looking like she wanted me to go on, so I took a deep breath and tried my best not to say anything else that wouldn't be doing us any good.

"You know Sti- Stanley and I have been friends with Emmett ever since he got here seven years ago", I said. "And you know we were the ones who tried helping him with the nightmares he used to have almost every night, unlike the staff members who denied him any kind of support for pretty much all of his issues." I shoved all the insults on my tongue back into my backbrain. That wasn't how I was gonna win this. Not this time. "Stanley, Emmett, and I, we're more than just friends after all these years. We're _family_. None of our parents are gonna take us back in after juvie anyway, so why don't you just keep letting us live with each other instead of forcing all three of us into, what, single apartments by ourselves? You know that wouldn't work out. We've gotta stick together."

"He's right", I heard Stinky speak up next to me, and when I shot him a glance, I saw his oh so familiar smile. He had my back, just like always, I realized with a warm feeling inside me. If there was anyone I could count on no matter what happened, it was him. So when he kept on talking, I couldn't help but crack a smile as well. "I don't know what I'd do without him and Emmett", he said. "Especially in those months I'd have to stay here without them."

Dana's gaze shifted to Emmett, and for a moment, I was worried he'd keep quiet - his fits aside, Emmett wasn't someone who picked fights or spoke up against others. That was my job more than anything, so it was all too likely he'd just say nothing about any of this. But then I heard his voice as well, calm and warm and unusually confident. "All three of us have issues nobody else really knows how to deal with. But _we_ do, because we've always been there for one another no matter what happened or how awful our problems were making things for us. We don't just want to stay with each other, we _need_ each other. Because I honestly don't know what being apart would do to us at this point."

The glance I shot him had a bit of surprise in it - I hadn't expected him to ever talk about us in plural like that. But that's what he'd just done, and it felt great, because I knew he was right with every part of it.

And Dana seemed to feel it too.

"I know", she told us with a weak smile. "Boys, I know." She hesitated, sighed, then looked at us again. "Alright. I'll see what I can do to keep you together. But I can't promise anything."

 _You're literally the one in charge_ , I thought, but kept that to myself. After all, she technically didn't have to be nice to us at all. "Thanks", I said, making sure to show my relief. "That means a lot."

Now it only had to work out.

The weeks that followed were about as stressful as the ones where we'd started helping Emmett with his panic attacks. Not because we were doing something equally exhausting… but because we weren't doing anything at all. We couldn't, because all we could do was wait until Dana gave us an update on how things would be going from here. But that was taking forever, and waiting was the worst, because Emmett's birthday in early June was quickly approaching and we had no idea how much time we still had together. I didn't want this to be over. None of us did.

The week before Emmett's birthday, they finally spilled the beans.

Some guard was picking us up from our room again, leading us over to Dana's office. I didn't know how to feel - relieved? Scared? Nervous, in any case. At least we'd finally have certainty.

Like last time, Emmett was already there, and like last time, I sat down on the middle chair after Dana had welcomed us. Neither her nor Emmett's expression revealed anything, but then, at last, she spoke again.

"Well", she said. "I have good news and bad news for you."

"Good news first!", Stinky replied immediately, optimistic as always. It was one of those days I wished I could share his positive outlook on everything.

Dana nodded, a smile appearing on her face. "The three of you will get to remain together, even after your time here at juvie."

I felt the tension of the last few weeks fall off me within seconds, exchanging a relieved glance with my friends. Dana kept on talking - something about having found the perfect place for us, and about other stuff she'd still have to work out -, but I was hardly paying attention anymore.

We'd stay together. And that was all that mattered.

That is, until Emmett's voice made me listen up again. "And the bad news?", he asked.

"Well, I couldn't just shorten the juvie sentences of your friends. However, as long as you are still eighteen, you're technically permitted to remain in juvie… so if you really want to stay together, you and Matthew will have to wait until Stanley's birthday in ten months before I can let all of you go."

"Fair enough", I said with a shrug. Sure, I didn't exactly like it here, but getting out wasn't all that urgent either. And those - for me - seven additional months were just a small price to pay for getting to stay with Emmett and Stinky.

Next to me, Emmett nodded, his expression saying more than any words. Same with Stinky, whose grin was so wide it almost went out of his face.

Dana let us go with a smile of her own, and Emmett accompanied Stinky and me back to our room. The second the guards were gone and we were all by ourselves, neither of us could hold it in anymore. It wasn't Stinky who pulled us into a hug this time, or Emmett, but all three of us at once. All sharing the same relief, the same joy, the same anticipation for the years to come. We probably looked more like seven-year-olds than seventeen-year-olds at that moment, but I couldn't have given less of a fuck.

We were a pack, Stinky, Emmett, and I. And that wasn't going to change anytime soon.

* * *

Now that there wasn't a doubt that we were gonna stick together, those remaining ten months were over before we knew it. Emmett's birthday came and went, as did mine in September, and then, soon enough, it was April again.

"Chopper!", Stinky called as he jumped off his bed in the morning, far more awake than he usually was at this hour. "Chopper, wake up!"

He was virtually hovering over me now, probably trying to shove me awake - but I was faster. Before he could do anything, I was on my feet as well, and then on him as I pushed him to the ground with a grin. "Joke's on you", I said, catching my breath. "I've been awake for hours."

Stinky giggled, and I helped him back to his feet. His eyes trailed off as he smiled at me, looking around our scarcely filled room. "I can't believe this is it. Just a few more hours and…"

"And we'll be out of here. Yeah." I still couldn't believe it either, and I'd been trying to wrap my head around it for hours now. I'd spent the last ten years of my life here in juvie - longer than anywhere else combined - and now I'd never have to see this place again. I was excited, of course I was, but that word alone didn't cut it. I was ecstatic and terrified and overjoyed and uncertain and every other adjective all at once. I didn't know how to feel, didn't know what to say. So I chose the most reasonable thing. "Let's go check on Emmett."

Our friend was already at the cafeteria when we arrived, and he, too, was a sight to behold. His normal expression - a smile or a frown - didn't leave much of a range to show his emotions, but today, his face didn't seem to be able to decide. It kept shifting from smiles and even grins to frowns and other twitches, perfectly depicting the way I felt at that very moment. Then again, maybe my own face was looking just like that right now.

Stinky's, at least, was one hundred percent a grin, and seeing it was contagious for the rest of us. We didn't say anything as we ate - our last breakfast, no, our last _meal_ here in juvie, _God_ -, but we didn't need to. Pretty sure we were all sharing the exact same thoughts.

The guards didn't take us back to our rooms after we were done, but straight to Dana's office. I became more nervous - in a good way, for once - with every step, and not just because this was probably the last thing we'd ever be doing at this place. No, it was also because, in all these months, Dana hadn't told us a thing about what she'd arranged for our future at all, so that, too, was something we couldn't wait to find out about. Whatever it was gonna be, we'd be facing it together, and it couldn't be much worse than juvie. It could, really, only go up from here.

When we entered her office, I noticed in surprise that she wasn't the only person already inside. Sitting on her side of the room, by the wall rather than behind her desk, was a guy in what I assumed to be his late fifties, his dark brown hair already showing streaks of gray. Nobody from juvie, else I'd definitely have seen him before, and he wouldn't be wearing such casual clothing. For a moment, our eyes met, and he shot me a smile that struck me in ways I hadn't felt in more than ten years, rendering me too speechless to say Hi to anyone. This was Dad's smile, Dad's smile and nothing else.

I forced myself to keep my eyes focused on Dana as the three of us sat down, even though my mind was still on the other guy. I had only known him for a few seconds now, but he'd already made me feel more at home than anything or anyone in the entire last decade. Dad's smile, God. I had no idea anyone else could ever look at me like that.

Dana, meanwhile, regarded us with a smile that was genuine too, but not in that way. She'd never be able to pull off that look. That look I'd thought only Dad could give me…

"Well, boys, here we are", she began, and I was still too distracted to say anything in response. The others didn't either, so she kept going… by spending the next eternity talking about useless sentimentalities that did nothing but stretch this out far longer than it needed to be.

"I'll take it from here", the stranger put in when she next made a pause, and I could tell from the way he looked at us that he knew exactly what we were thinking. We wanted to get out, nothing else; there wasn't much of a deal to be made about it. And so he stood up, moving his hulking body in front of Dana's desk and leaning against it. She seemed mildly offended, but didn't say anything, so he continued. "The name's Patrick Owens", he told us in a higher-pitched, jovial voice that reminded me a bit of Stinky, though this guy's face was more like a rough square rather than my friend's chubby circle. "I'm the guy who'll be in charge of the three of you from here on. Of course you're gonna have your own place to stay and all that, but coming back to the real world isn't always all that easy. So I'll be here to help you figure out whatever you're struggling with."

My friends and I exchanged a glance. Yeah, we'd had those preparation courses for a while now, but it'd probably be good to actually have someone around to help us out. Especially if it was a guy like this who'd managed to be on my good side within just a few seconds. "Thanks", I replied, because one of us had to say something at some point.

Patrick - he seemed way too casual to be Mr Owens in my head - nodded with what almost qualified as a grin. "I'd have far more stuff to say, but we can take care of that once we're outside. I know that's the only thing on your minds right now - wouldn't wanna keep you in here any longer than necessary, eh?" He turned around to meet Dana's gaze. "I'd say we make this quick. Let them pack their stuff and give them some decent stand-in clothes, and we'll be on our way."

"Of course", Dana agreed, reaching for something on her desk that I only got a good look on when she stood up and joined Patrick where he was standing. They looked like three little plastic bracelets, sort of, but I could tell there was more to them than that, so I raised an eyebrow at the two older adults.

"Nothing to worry about", Patrick told us in a tone that almost made me believe him. Almost. "Those are electronic ankle tags. Everyone who's been around juvie this long gets those for a while."

"Three years in your case, to be exact", Dana added before we could say anything. "Just a little precaution for your first years back outside. They won't hurt you, or record you, or do anything else along those lines. You'll soon forget they're even there."

"Then what do you need them for?", I asked, doing my best to hold back the bitterness. They'd said we'd be out of juvie. Forever. No hidden catches. And this was the opposite of that.

Patrick gave me another one of those looks that told me he sympathized. "Well, nothing really. Ideally, that is. But if some sorta crime happens somewhere around the city, the cops'll be able to track you and check if you could have anything to do with it. Relapses happen a lot after someone leaves juvie, so having gadgets like these is kind of necessary, as much as it sucks for you guys." He took one of the tags from Dana, playing around with it as he talked. "But she's right, you'll probably forget you're wearing them a few days in. They barely weigh anything, and they're waterproof and all that - so you won't even have to take them off at any point."

I glanced over to my friends again, realizing they weren't gonna say anything. I was their alpha, I was the one speaking for all of us. So I nodded, sighing. "Fine, then. Let's get this over with."

While Dana walked over to Stinky, Patrick was the one approaching me. I pulled up one leg of my pants for him, watching as he knelt down to put that ankle tag on me. It was cold when it first touched my skin, and I couldn't help but flinch, but then Patrick already got up again and patted me on the shoulder with a nod. And with one of those smiles that only Dad had ever given me before, more than ten years ago.

The smile that told me he'd been through the same kind of bullshit once and knew exactly what he was talking about.

My breath caught the moment I realized that. I wanted to say something, anything, but then he already headed over to Emmett. My friend's eyes met mine, and I did my best to look as reassuring as Patrick just had. Whether it was working or not, it was enough of a distraction for our new ally to give Emmett his tag, and before long, the two older adults were by their desk again, facing us.

"See?", Patrick said, now wearing a smile that radiated anticipation more than anything. "Told you it's not that bad. Now let's get the three of you outta here."

Dana nodded, looking at us. "You'll go back to your rooms and pack your things. And I'm sure Patrick here will get you something better soon enough, but for now, we've also provided you with some clothing that people actually wear outside institutions like this." Her smile widened a little more, and then, she said her goodbyes, nodding at all three of us individually.

"Thanks for everything, Dana", was all I managed in return. It was the first time in my life I actually got to say goodbye to someone, but I really had no idea how. So I was glad when we were finally out of there and walking back to our rooms.

The rooms that had been ours for half our lives. That wouldn't be ours anymore in just a few minutes.

I didn't have much to pack. Of course not; after all, we hadn't really owned much here in juvie. But I had the few notebooks I'd written in from time to time - _not_ a diary, thank you -, so I was gonna take those before anyone could get the brilliant idea to stick their nose into them. I shoved them into the bag I'd been provided, much like Stinky did with his remaining snacks. And the walkie-talkie that wasn't technically ours, but I was gonna be damned if I couldn't take it with us. That thing alone held more personal value than pretty much everything else around the place.

Then it was time to change into those other clothes they'd left in our rooms. The juvie staff knew our sizes by now, so that wasn't much of a deal, and the outfits themselves were nothing but some basic blacks and grays… but it was still an odd feeling, to say the least. None of us had worn anything but the juvie getup in an entire decade, so I couldn't help but hesitate as I touched the fabric that was so much less itchy than the one I'd grown to endure. Could I really do this? After all this time?

"What do you say?", Stinky's voice interrupted my thoughts, and my breath caught when I turned to look at my friend. He'd already changed into the new stuff, and _God_ , was it jarring to see him in such dark colors for once. I'd only ever known him wearing juvie's piss yellow, after all.

"Not bad", I managed to say eventually, and actually meant it, too. Then I took a deep breath and changed as well, doing it as fast as possible so I wouldn't get to think too much about it.

"Suits you", Stinky commented, to which I only replied with an awkward shrug. Then, I grabbed the bag I'd packed, heading back over to the door where a guard was already waiting on the other side. He'd take us to the entrance of the building, the part of juvie I hadn't seen in a good ten years. And that I'd never, ever, see again.

I swallowed all the conflicting feelings already rising inside me once more, looking back over my shoulder at my soon-to-be ex-juvie-roommate. "Let's go."

And so we did. The guard led us through hallways we hadn't used in forever, all the way over to the entrance hall where only a single door was still separating us from the outside world. Patrick was already there, smiling at us as we arrived. Emmett had yet to show up, but that didn't stop him from starting a conversation. "Looks way better on you than that ugly orange", he teased.

"Thanks", was all I managed in return, still way too overwhelmed by all the thoughts in my head right now.

Patrick didn't seem to mind. "But I'm sure we'll find you something even better later today", he added. "First I'm gonna show you your new place though - I'm kinda jealous, honestly." He let out a laugh, and then his eyes went past us and into the hallway we'd come from. "Ah, there's your friend."

I turned around, and for a moment, all Emmett and I could do was stare at each other in silence, seeing each other in these unfamiliar colors for the first time. I cracked an awkward smile, as did he as he walked over to us, and Patrick nodded, satisfied. "Ready to go?"

 _Yes. No. Maybe._ The words were trapped in my throat as I heard how awfully loud my heart was beating right now. I took a deep breath, somehow managing a response. "Lead the way."

Patrick did just that, turning around and heading towards that door. And we followed, our legs heavy and light and everything in between. Seconds later, we were there, _outside_ , and in that very moment, even that ugly-ass parking lot in front of us was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. "Fuck", I muttered, tears in my eyes that I couldn't decide whether or not to fight. I risked a glance behind me, and there I saw that Stinky and Emmett were feeling the very same way. Of course they were.

"Wait until you see where you're gonna be staying from now on", Patrick said somewhere behind me, and when I looked back, I realized we'd stopped walking, while he'd gone ahead to lean against a van that was probably his. He had that smile on his face again, that smile that told me he knew exactly how we were feeling because he'd been through the same experience before. "You coming?"

I gave him a nod and started walking again, hands tight around the straps of my bag. But I only heard Stinky's unmistakable bouncy footsteps behind me, not Emmett's heavier thuds.

I turned around again. "You okay?", I asked my friend who still hadn't moved an inch. But the second I said it aloud, I knew what his issue was. The last time he'd been in a car - or close enough, anyway -, the cops had knocked him out to get him into juvie. "They aren't here today", I assured him, because of course he knew what I was talking about. "And they're the ones who were awful to you, not the car. Plus, if all else fails, you still have Stinky and me, right?"

Emmett nodded reluctantly, then managed a step. And another. I waited until he was right next to me, and then we walked that remaining distance together. Stinky had already gone ahead, and now he was grinning at us, eyes wide. "Can I sit in the front?", he asked. "I know that's kinda your spot, Chopper - but _please?_ "

It was hard to deny him anything when he was giving me that particular look, so I shrugged with a grin of my own. It was probably better if I stayed with Emmett anyway. "Sure."

Stinky squealed, and seconds later, he was virtually jumping onto the passenger seat.

"Hey, watch it", Patrick said, but he sounded the opposite of angry. I helped Emmett onto one of the seats in the back, making sure he didn't spiral back into who knew what, and when I turned to walk around the car to my own seat, Patrick stopped me by putting a hand on my shoulder. I realized the others had already closed their doors; he really was only talking to me now. "I'm glad you're there to look after them", he said.

There was another one of those shitty lumps in my throat, but I swallowed it back where it belonged. "Someone's gotta do that when the rest of the world doesn't."

Patrick nodded, giving me one of his Dad-like smiles. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but decided against it, instead letting go of me and opening the door to the driver's seat. Getting the cue, I hurried to my own one, slamming the door shut as I sat down right next to Emmett. He flinched at the sound, so I muttered a quick "shit, sorry" before Patrick interrupted both of our thoughts.

"I'll take you to your new place for now", he said as he started the engine. What a strange sound that was after all these years. "Then I'll give you a quick tour, and _then_ it's time for lunch. _Real_ lunch, not the crap they forced you to eat back in juvie."

He grinned into the rearview mirror as we took off, and I did my best to keep my eyes focused on him as we left the juvie grounds and headed back into the rest of the world. Stinky, sure enough, had his nose pressed against the windowpane, and Emmett, too, was staring at all the people and places we passed. I wanted to do the same, but I couldn't, because Patrick was talking again.

"What are your names anyway?", he asked.

I blinked at him. "They didn't tell you?"

"Sure they did", he laughed, but not in a mean-spirited way. "I know everything they put into your files. But I'm talking about your _real_ names, the ones you actually use for each other." Through the mirror, his eyes met mine. "Chopper, is it?"

"Yeah." It was weird to hear an actual adult say that name, but then again, Patrick felt more like one of us than anything else. Still, it was probably better to clarify. "Not because I, uh. Did anything like that, though. It's from a movie."

" _Stand by Me_ , right? Good one." Patrick didn't let me reply, which was fine with me because I had no idea what to say. "And the rest of you?"

Stinky was still distracted by everything around us, and Emmett wasn't the most talkative person to begin with, so I went on and introduced them as well. When I told Patrick that Emmett was going by his actual name, our new ally shrugged.

"Fine with me. And while we're at it - you can call me Patty. Or Petty. Both meanings fit well enough." He chuckled, a hand on his massive belly.

I grinned in reply, and when he didn't say anything else, I finally allowed myself to look out the window beside me. The streets of the city were flying by fast, but still slow enough for me to recognize a few of them. I'd seen quite a bit of the area back in my childhood years, after all. Still, after a decade of the gray bleakness of juvie, every building and park and street seemed like the first one I'd ever seen. The second we had everything sorted out, we'd all take a walk just to take in the view - and the sounds, and, God, the touch of everything that wasn't concrete -, I decided right then and there.

But for now, we were heading to our new place to stay. That was something I'd thought about for a while now, trying to figure out what they could possibly have chosen for us. All I really knew as a point of reference was the cramped little apartment I'd spent the first years of my life in, and as shitty as the people at juvie were, I doubted they'd force the three of us into one of those. At the same time, it was pretty unlikely that they'd gotten us some sort of massive mansion, so at this point, I honestly had no idea what to expect.

And yet it still was a surprise when Patty parked the van in front of what was literally an apparently deserted factory, complete with mesh wire fences around it and weeds growing pretty much everywhere.

"That's it?", I couldn't help but ask, not really sure how to feel. Overwhelmed? Underwhelmed? A bit of both, honestly.

Patty chuckled as he got out of the car and watched us do the same. "Not what you expected, huh? They sold Dana the whole estate at a laughable price, because I guess they thought anyone who wanted it would spend their remaining money tearing down that building and starting again from scratch. But that's not what _we're_ gonna do. Sure, the place still needs a ton of work, but I really don't think you could've asked for anything better than this. C'mon!"

With that, he headed over to where I supposed the entrance to the whole thing was, and with a glance between me and my friends that was both uncertain and curious, we followed him.

We entered the building through what wasn't much more than a back door, reaching a long hallway lit by frantically flickering lights we'd definitely have to replace at some point. I supposed most people would've been creeped out by now, but honestly, it wasn't much worse than juvie.

And the room it led to... was so much better.

Most of all, the place was _massive_ \- half the building seemed to consist of just this one room, giant old pipes going into the walls and through the floor. Above us, the hall was covered in a grid of steel walkways, probably leading to even more rooms than this. And then, after all of that, I noticed the furniture someone'd already put here for us, almost laughably small in this giant place.

I immediately knew Patty'd been right. This place was more than big enough for the three of us, and yet, nothing overly fancy or something that'd cost us a ton of money. In fact, the look and the feel - and the lingering smell the rusty old tech gave off - of the entire area still kind of felt like juvie, but not in a bad way. It was… familiar, more than anything.

It was perfect.

"Damn", was all I managed to say. Unlike Stinky, who immediately ran off to, apparently, look around every last corner of the entire hall like some sort of overexcited puppy. Which I supposed was really the closest comparison anyone could ever find for him.

Emmett stayed with Patty and me, his eyes taking in everything right where we stood. "Is this stuff still in use?", he asked, and I realized it was the first time Patty heard his voice.

The man looked at him for a moment, then dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. "Nah, don't worry about that. Those pipes haven't had anything in them for ages - not those big ones, anyway. They're really just here for the aesthetic at this point."

 _And doing a great job_ , I thought.

"Oh, one more thing", Patty said as we followed Stinky after all and took a closer look at the place. "There's a junkyard not too far from here. Pretty sure they'll let you take some of their trash if you ask nicely - might be a pretty good way to get your hands on some stuff that actually fits the place."

"Sounds great", I nodded, looking around some more before my thoughts led me somewhere else entirely. "Patty?"

"Yeah?"

"How do we pay for all this?"

Patty leaned against one of the massive pipes, smiling at me. "Nobody expects you to get a real job while you're still on probation. But you're right, you're gonna need a ton of money if you wanna keep this up… and I'll be the one giving it to you."

I stared at him in surprise. "What?"

"Another thing we kinda forgot to tell you about", he said, a little awkward for once. "Helping out former juvie inmates isn't really my job. This is the first time I'm doing something like that, actually."

 _You're doing great, though_ , I replied, but only in my head. No need to get sappy.

"What I'm actually doing is running a class at one of the local high schools. Shop class, that is. I'm pretty much there all day, so that's where you'll be joining me."

"At a school?", I repeated, still confused. As little as they'd taught us in juvie, I wasn't really planning on catching up on any of it.

Patty just shrugged. "Nobody's gonna force you into going to any classes unless you actually want to. And shop class is just a few times a week. Most of the time, I have the whole machine shop wing to myself, and that's where you come in." He patted the pipe he was leaning against. "Like I said, this place still needs a lot of work. And I could use a few helping hands on some other stuff as well. So, what I'm saying is: The three of you'll join me over at A Nigma High, and I'll show you how to fix up a bunch of things. Then you'll do that, and then I'll pay you for it. Should be enough to get by, and you'll have something useful to do in these next couple years."

My glance went over to Emmett, who liked fiddling with tech anyway and could probably really use a productive way to let out all that strength he naturally had… a harmless way, no less. And then to Stinky, who I was guessing wanted to make our new home look as great as possible, especially with stuff he'd made himself. And me? Yeah, I couldn't think of a better way to spend my time than with the people I liked. And crafting sounded like a great thing to do, no matter how little experience I had in that regard.

So, at last, I nodded, allowing myself to smile again. "Sounds good to me."

* * *

Just like he'd promised, Patty gave us a quick tour of the entire place. As it turned out, there really were a couple more rooms than just the massive hall, but we soon collectively decided that we were probably just gonna use that one for pretty much everything. We could've had separate bedrooms for all of us, too - but after all these years, the thought of sleeping without the sound of Stinky's soft snores was kind of jarring, honestly. So, in the end, we figured we'd set up all three of our beds close to one another as well.

"That's all we're gonna rearrange for now", Patty said after we were done, rubbing his massive belly. "Because guess what? It's lunchtime."

 _Real lunch_ , I reminded myself of his earlier words, wondering what he'd meant by that. I didn't have to do that for long, because soon enough, we were back in his van, and after just a few minutes, I saw where he was taking us.

McDonald's.

"Yes!", Stinky cheered, and even I couldn't help but grin. It had been ages for all of us since we'd last eaten here, but Dad had taken me to this place a lot back in the day.

"Not getting you boys a Happy Meal though", Patty snorted from the driver's seat as he parked the car. "This is your first day out of juvie, you gotta celebrate! So pick yourselves whatever you want, I don't mind paying for all of it."

I shot him a grateful smile and gladly took the offer. We all did, each of us ordering like three different burgers plus extra stuff while Patty stayed satisfied with a single one. But I could tell from the look on his face that he was happy just watching the three of us. As were we - sure, we'd had burgers in juvie sometimes, but they were nothing compared to the virtual feast we were having right now. Eventually, we were done, too full to fit even another fry into our mouths, and still I was sure none of us regretted any of this. I, at least, sure didn't.

Emmett and I were the ones returning our trays - an all too familiar action at this point -, and when we did, I noticed Patty talking to Stinky.

"Maybe next time", he told my friend, and I realized he was referring to the free balloons McDonald's apparently still had around even after all these years. "We still have stuff to do today."

Stinky frowned ever so slightly as we left, but I, for one, was kinda glad. I could do without Ronald McDonald's creepy as hell clown face grinning at me all day. That was something only Stinky could pull off around me, and that wasn't gonna change anytime soon.

Instead of using the car, we walked this time, Patty taking us further into the city. Not a bad decision with how full we were, but of course, he also did it so we could take in everything around us.

And God, was that what we did. As usual, Stinky was the one most outwardly excited about everything, sometimes running ahead until Patty had to call him back. Emmett, on the other hand, seemed nervous, warily glancing around as he walked next to me. But whenever I looked at him and our eyes met, he cracked a smile, and I knew he was just as positively overwhelmed as the rest of us. Still, I stayed by Emmett's side, but sometimes I couldn't help closing my eyes as I took in the sounds and the smells of everything. And the breeze on my skin that was so unlike the one in the courtyard at juvie, because it was beckoning me to run down a hill and scream my lungs out as I vocalized all the pent-up feelings inside me. I couldn't do that right now, of course, but it didn't matter. I still embraced it all the same, because I knew exactly what this breeze was representing in the end.

It was freedom. And no one was gonna take it from us anymore.

"Feels great, huh?", Patty said, closer to me than I'd expected him to be. I flinched, but collected myself again quickly enough, managing a nod.

"You know what this is like, don't you?", I couldn't help but ask, and now it was Patty who nodded.

"I had my own share of juvie time plenty of years ago. I'd say I don't miss it, but that wouldn't really be true."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "You do?"

Patty just shrugged in response. "Pretty much everything about it is awful, sure. But at least there's a routine. And nothing you gotta worry about, because staff takes care of everything for you. The life out here isn't as easy as that." He gave me a sympathetic look. "But you're the last person I gotta tell something like that, I know."

When I didn't reply - I had no idea what to say -, he put a hand on my shoulder. "You're a survivor, aren't you? You'll make things work regardless of what life throws at you. I'm sure of that." He let go, giving me one of his Dad-like smiles. "Now let's find you something decent to wear."

Still speechless, I followed Patty into a store we'd reached by now, Stinky and Emmett close behind. The place sold clothes, I could figure as much immediately, but it wasn't the kind of stuff I'd seen on the people on the street just minutes ago. Everything here looked more like Patty's aesthetic, gritty yet practical and without overly bold colors or patterns. Exactly my kinda style.

"Figured you'd like it here", Patty chuckled, looking at all three of us. "Feel free to have a look around and call me over if you need anything. I'm no fashion expert, but I'll see what I can do."

I gave him a nod, then hurried after Stinky who'd run off as usual. Emmett was close behind me, and soon enough, all three of us were virtually stranded in this sea of outfits. This sea of choices, overwhelming as hell after a decade of the same exact getups on all of us. Stinky was the first to actually take a look around, and so Emmett and I did too, if a bit more reluctantly. Just touching all these different fabrics was weird.

Then something caught my eye, and at the same time, I felt a kind of aching deep inside my body.

"Seriously?", I asked, staring at what I'd just found. "They're selling prison getups here?" It wasn't the same thing we'd worn in juvie, because this was a single piece for the whole body, not two. But it was the same piss yellow, complete with the kinda collar I'd seen the outfits at grownup prisons have on tv ages ago. _Dad's wearing something like this right now_ , I realized, which only made my heart ache even more.

"Well, almost", Stinky pointed out, having walked over to me after hearing my voice. "Prison stuff is orange, not murky green like this."

 _Huh_ , I thought, staring at the outfit again. Sure, I knew about my issues with seeing colors, but that still kind of came as a surprise. And yet it also meant that one could probably actually wear this in public…

"I'm gonna try this on", I decided, quickly skimming through the rail to find something my size. Leaving Stinky behind, I was in one of the changing booths within moments, and soon enough, I was looking at an all too familiar figure in the mirror. The one I'd seen for so many years now… and as dumb as it was, Patty was right. Maybe there really were some parts of juvie worth missing.

Then I saw the stubs of the beard I'd begun to grow and hadn't shaved in forever, the eyes that didn't fit little six-year-old Matthew anymore but whose bags had become heavy with painful experience over the years.

It wasn't me I was looking at, really. At that moment, all I could see was Dad.

The tears came before I could help it, so I turned away from the mirror as I fought the pain in my chest and the lump in my throat. _Deep breaths_ , I told myself, just like I'd told Emmett so many times before. It took a moment, but eventually, I felt myself calming down again - and just in time, because suddenly, I heard Patty's voice outside.

"Chopper?", he asked. "You in here?"

"Yeah", I managed, stepping out of the booth still with that new outfit on. "Was I… taking too long?"

"Nah, just checking on all of you." Patty looked me over, saying nothing for several long seconds before the smile on his face widened. "Looks great on you. Planning on keeping it?"

"Yeah", I repeated, meaning it with all my heart. Then I was too busy fighting the tears to say anything else, but Patty mercifully changed the topic.

"We can get you a few of those, but I'd still say you find yourself another outfit or two. Just to spice things up a little bit."

I nodded, heading back into the booth to get changed again for now. Then I returned to the others, only to see that they, too, had been pretty successful finding new stuff to wear. And least I assumed as much from the piles of clothing draped over their arms. Soon enough, I was looking just like that - there was a ton of stuff to choose from, and Patty stayed by my side to make sure my color choices weren't too jarring. Then, at last, he decided we had enough outfits to last a while - or maybe he was just starting to worry about not having enough money to pay for it all. 

But no, Patty was grinning at us as we approached the checkout, nodding at several tables and shelves near it. "If you wanna keep anything from over there, go ahead. Those few extra dollars won't hurt me."

Curious, we decided to take a look, and I saw that Patty had pointed us to several piles of all kinds of accessories; hats and cheap jewelry and who knew what else. With our clothes over one arm, we used the other to rummage around, and soon enough, I found something worth keeping: a pair of fingerless gloves that I could tell were gonna be a perfect fit. _Useful for crafting later on_ , I thought, my eyes trailing over to the old burn scar on my left hand. _And useful for covering that up, too._

"How's this?", Stinky asked, and when I turned to look at him, I snorted. He'd put on a black bandana with a skull on it that pretty much completely covered his eyes.

"Can you even see through that thing?", I replied, faking a punch in the direction of his face.

Stinky didn't flinch, but then again, he wouldn't have even if he _had_ seen it coming. "I'll keep it", he decided, not answering my question, but that was his problem, not mine.

Emmett, meanwhile, had found himself a bunch of wristbands and a trucker hat he was now turning around in his hands. With visible hesitation, he tried it on, and I noticed the hat was obscuring his eyes, too.

Unlike with Stinky, I didn't crack a joke about it. Even with all our help regarding his nightmares, he still had those bags under his eyes, and in them, from time to time, that sorrowful gaze that always pained me to see. Maybe wearing a hat like that wasn't such a bad idea for him. Our eyes met when he took it off, and I gave him a reassuring nod he replied to with a grateful smile. Then, we were ready to go, and the two of us joined Patty and Stinky back in the line at the checkout.

Minutes later, we were all carrying massive bags with all the stuff we'd bought - or that Patty had bought for us, rather -, Stinky actually seeing surprisingly well even with that bandana on. Emmett was wearing his new hat as well, but other than that, we'd put everything in those bags for now. We dumped them all in the trunk of the van, and then Patty drove us back to the factory… no, _home_ , I realized, as weird as it felt to call it that already.

What was even weirder was the package by the gate in the mesh wire fence. At least it was to me, because Patty picked it up without seeming surprised at all. "Gotta love express delivery", he said as he led us inside.

"You ordered something?", I asked, and Stinky joined in.

"Is it for us?"

In the flickering lights of the factory's hallway, Patty shot us what I could only call a teasing smirk. "You'll see."

Once we were back in the massive room that was now our main living space, we dumped all our bags on the floor, unsure of what to do next. Being out of juvie without having orders at any given point in time really was something we still had to get used to, I supposed.

Patty, at least, looked at us expectantly. "I'd say you put on your new stuff. Might as well, now that you have it and all."

The three of us exchanged a glance - I didn't have to properly see my friends' eyes to know what they were thinking -, and did just that, each picking an outfit from the several ones we'd gotten ourselves. None of us minded changing in front of the others, not even around Patty, so it didn't take long until we were done.

Stinky had gone with the simplest approach, still wearing the dark gray shirt from juvie. On top of it, he'd chosen overalls that kind of made him look even more goofy than he already was, but then I realized that was probably the intention behind it. He loved everything related to clowns, after all. Emmett, on the other hand, had exchanged his shirt for a tank top that wasn't gonna cause any issues for his ever so muscular arms, and his jeans, held up by a massive, but not overly showy belt, were already ripped around the knees. _Did they sell them like that?_ , I wondered. Then again, I supposed I'd missed about a decade of fashion developments, so who even knew at this point. Emmett looked great, in any case, especially since he'd turned the trucker hat around halfway so we could see his eyes again. It was just the four of us here, after all.

"Much better", Patty agreed as well, still holding that mysterious package.

Which he now handed to me.

"What -", I began, but Patty just shot me another smile.

"I read about one of your issues in your files, so I figured I'd do something about it. I ordered this thing a few hours ago, the second I knew you weren't gonna mind the aesthetic."

I raised an eyebrow at him, because I didn't have the hint of an idea what he was talking about. But Stinky was already shouting "Open it, open it!" with just as much anticipation as I was feeling, so I did just that, staring at the contents of the package. There was just one thing inside, a pair of weirdly dark goggles that looked all gritty, but honestly also kind of awesome. Still, I had no idea how they could help me with any of my apparent issues. Unless…

"Is this so other people won't get creeped out by my eyes?", I asked, but Patty's reply wasn't exactly helpful.

"That's just a bonus", he said. "Put them on and you'll see - though you might wanna sit down for this."

"Pretty sure I can handle whatever it is", I replied, a bit of my rebellious side shining through. Still standing, I put on those goggles - and then, my legs gave in. I was lucky that Emmett was right beside me, because he grabbed me before I could've hit the ground.

"Chopper!", Stinky called out. "Are you alright?"

Holding onto Emmett, I couldn't help but shake my head. "Fuck", I muttered, over and over and over again. I could tell how weird my voice was sounding right now, affected by the tears in my eyes that I desperately tried blinking away, if only so I could keep looking through these incredible goggles.

"Don't", Patty said with a little laugh when Emmett made a move to take them off me. "They're nothing bad. Just a little overwhelming at first, I'd imagine."

 _A little?_ , I thought, letting out some sort of nervous laughter that was mixed with sobs. But, for once, those weren't bad. I looked around again, slowly but surely, down the clothes I was wearing and all over the room and then, eventually, right into Emmett's face. Into his eyes.

His green, so very green eyes.

I had no idea how in the world this was possible, and frankly, I couldn't give less of a shit. All that mattered was what these goggles were doing to me.

For the first time in my life, I could see colors I had no idea existed in anything but name. Green and red and orange and who knew what else, they'd always just been yellow to me, just like purple had been no different from blue. But that wasn't the case anymore, because now, suddenly, thanks to nothing but these simple goggles, I could actually see all of them, see them just the way they really were.

And it was so fucking beautiful.

Faintly, drowned out by my racing thoughts of trying to wrap my head around it all, I heard Patty explain the same thing to my friends. "They have these looking just like normal glasses too, but I figured you'd appreciate this more", he said. "Especially since they can double as safety goggles for all the crafting you'll be doing."

"Thank you", I somehow managed to say after catching my breath. "Thank you so much, Patty. For everything."

"Eh, don't mention it", he shrugged with a grin. "I've read and heard plenty about the three of you. If there's anyone who deserves all the stuff we did today, it's you. I'm just the one making it happen." But he couldn't fool me, I could hear the honest emotion in his voice just as well as I had in mine.

Before I could point it out, however, he walked off and pulled a six-pack of some sort of green - yes, fuck, _green_ , no doubt about it - cans of drink over to the rest of us. He took out one of them, shook it for a few seconds, then tossed it over to me. I watched him do the same with two more for my friends, and then he also prepared one for himself. Still wearing his grin, he showed us how to open them, raising his can of what I could now identify as some sort of soda into the air. "Here's to your lives", he said, looking all of us into the eyes as much as he could with my goggles and Stinky's bandana. "To all the shit you made it through, and to all the good times you're gonna have from here on out."

"To us!", Stinky cheered as well, opening his can so hastily it unleashed a stream of soda straight into his face. I couldn't help but laugh at that, and even Emmett let out a snort. Both of us opened our cans now too, managing not to spill soda all over our faces.

"To us", I agreed, and Emmett nodded.

"To us", he said, smiling at me with his oh so green eyes. I returned the expression, and all four of us raised our cans until they met one another with a dull clanking noise. The scent and taste of apple touched my nose and tongue as we drank, sweeter than anything I'd had in ages.

But in that moment, I knew deep down that the rest of our lives was gonna be just as sweet. After all, we were a pack, Stinky, Emmett, and I. We'd had to deal with so much bullshit in our lives already, and yet we were here now. Together.

Nothing had ever managed to stop us.

And it was going to stay that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chopper has a bunch of really chummy pictures with Patty in his locker, so I figured the lad's more than just a teacher to him :')
> 
> Also, happy birthday, Stinky ~


	5. Bonus chapter because I couldn't help myself

"Think you're ready for this?", Patty asked as he dropped me off with his van. "I can come with you, you know."

"No", I replied, my voice sounding as tense as I felt. "I mean, yeah, I'm ready. But no, you don't have to come. I gotta do this myself."

Patty nodded, understanding. "Good luck. I'll pick you up again in two hours." Then, he drove off, and I was standing out on the street alone.

Two weeks had passed since our first day outside, two weeks in which we'd set up our new place and everything else we were gonna need. We'd also already spent a few days at Patty's school, him showing us the machine shop wing after we'd had a meeting with the principal and vice principal. They were both kinda creeping me out, honestly, because Principal Wurst was just as outgoing and cheerful as Stinky, but without even a shred of my friend's lovable charm. And the vice principal, VP Victoria, was giving me massive movie villain vibes with those stunning looks and that far too smooth voice of hers. But as long as we stayed in our part of the school, we weren't gonna run into them too often, Patty had assured me, so that was what we were doing. Slowly but surely, we were starting to get used to living in ways that had nothing to do with how things had been in juvie.

So it was kind of ironic where Patty had dropped me off right now.

I ran a hand over my head, more nervous than on the day they'd let us out, no matter how unbelievable that was. I didn't have hair up there anymore - I'd never actually liked my curls, but back in juvie, keeping up a shorter haircut had been kind of impossible. Now that we were out of there, I could finally take care of my hair myself, so getting it all shaved off was one of the first things I'd done. It still felt weird, kind of, but I'd been keeping it this way for a week now, so it wasn't that much of an issue anymore.

The reason I was this nervous was something else entirely. Early on, Patty had told us that he wouldn't mind helping us visit the rest of our respective families, something that had caused mixed reactions from all of us. Stinky hadn't minded taking the offer - after all, his parents had actually kept visiting him in juvie over the years, which was more than Emmett and I could say about ours -, so Patty had helped him pull that off a few days ago. Emmett, naturally, was terrified of seeing his sister again, and I couldn't bring myself to say hi to Mom. Not after all the trouble I'd caused her and that decade-long silence between us.

No. Today, I was gonna visit Dad.

Emmett and Stinky had offered to come along, as had Patty, but I'd rejected all of them. This was something I needed to do on my own. So here I was now, standing outside the city's prison that looked more familiar than anything because it reminded me so much of juvie. I wasn't wearing my jumpsuit today, as much as it would've fit the occasion, just a green hoodie jacket with a black shirt underneath and ridiculously comfortable cargo pants. And the necklace, of course, even after all this time.

I touched it for a moment, took a deep breath, and headed inside.

 _Maybe I should've let Patty come after all_ , I thought as I took an uncertain glance around. _He'd have known what to do now._ But he wasn't here, so I approached the reception myself, telling the woman working there what I'd come here for.

"Caleb McNeal?", she repeated, eyeing me kind of nervously. "Are you sure?"

I nodded, trying to keep whatever feelings I was having inside. "He's my dad. I can see him, right?"

The woman copied my gesture, doing something with her computer that I couldn't see from where I was standing. "Of course. It's just… a little unexpected. He hasn't had a single visitor in the eleven years he's been in this institution, as far as I can tell."

"Fuck", I muttered, quickly correcting myself. The juvie tone wasn't something I should use in public, after all. "I mean, thanks. Can we… do it without one of those glass walls between us? You have those, right?"

"They might be necessary if you really are his first visitor", she said, her expression something between concern and sympathy. "I'll have to check with the ones responsible." She pointed me to a bunch of chairs nearby. "Please wait over there, I'll call you back over."

"Sure. Thanks." I did as told, watching her as she picked up her phone and had a conversation I couldn't hear from this spot. It took a few minutes, but then, she put the device down again and gestured me back to her desk.

"We can grant you your request", was all she told me. And all that mattered. "You'll be escorted to your meeting room shortly."

I thanked her again, keeping the actual extent of my gratitude inside me. Before I could sit down another time, the escort she'd mentioned arrived, and I couldn't believe my eyes.

"Decker?", I asked, staring at him from behind my goggles. Sure, I'd figured he'd stopped working at juvie because I hadn't seen him in years, but this was still unexpected. He actually looked pretty much the same as back then, I noticed, except that he wasn't towering over me anymore. I was standing at 6'6" myself these days, after all.

He clearly had a harder time recognizing me, not seeming to do so until he noticed whatever parts of my burn scar the fingerless glove wasn't covering up. His eyes widened when he did, and his gaze shifted to my goggles-covered face again. "Would you look at that. Matthew McNeal. Did they finally let you out?"

Decker didn't sound as rude and aggressive as he had in juvie, just genuinely surprised. Maybe he wasn't that much of a jerk anymore, now that he was done torturing kids for a living. He patted me down for security's sake, checking that I didn't have anything questionable with me, then gestured me to follow. Taking me to wherever I was gonna meet Dad.

My heart was racing so fast that it was hard to keep up the conversation with Decker, but I still tried my best. "Looks like it. Did you miss me?"

"Figured McNeal's your dad", he said instead, ignoring my question. "Not just because of the name. You have a lot in common."

"Like what?", I couldn't help but ask, but Decker wasn't the guy to talk about inner values.

"Like your eyes. Same creepy color." He paused. "Is that why you're wearing those goggles?"

I suspected that he wasn't supposed to talk to visitors like that, but I didn't know him any other way, so I didn't really mind. "Color correction", I told him. "Can't see shit otherwise."

"Sucks", he said, and that was it. Suddenly, something occurred to me, and I couldn't help but ask a question in return.

"Decker?"

"Hm?"

"Did you tell Dad about me?"

I was kind of relieved when he shook his head. "Figured he's been here since before you got into juvie. Didn't feel right to be the one bringing it up."

"Thanks", I said, and meant it, too. Maybe even Decker had his decent aspects, no matter how deep they were buried inside him.

"No problem." He took out a bunch of keys, one of which he then used to open a door in the hallway we'd reached. After a quick look inside, he nodded at me. "Looks like we're first. Ready to go?"

"No", I admitted, incredibly glad Decker couldn't see my eyes right now. "But that isn't gonna change. Let's do this."

The room we entered was about as bland as it could be, windowless and empty except for two chairs facing each other with a table between them. There was another door, too, on the wall opposite the one we'd used, and I assumed that was the one Dad was gonna arrive through. With deep, deep breaths, I took a seat, taking an awkward glance back the second I realized Decker was gonna keep standing by the door. He didn't say anything, and neither did I, the only sound in the room being the oh so loud beating of my heart.

Then they opened the other door.

My fingers clutched the sleeves of my hoodie as I watched the two people who entered. No, I didn't give a shit about the guard shutting the door behind him, taking position beside it just like Decker had before. All I could look at was the other man, the one with skin as dark as mine and an outfit just like my jumpsuit, only that it was orange, not green. Shortish dark hair that wasn't as curly as what I used to have - something I'd gotten from Mom, not him -, and eyes that, for the first time, made me realize what people meant whenever they called them creepy. They really were amber, a beautiful hue between yellow and orange, carrying the same underlying sadness Emmett's eyes so often had in them. Something inside me ached; the part of me that had hoped he would look at me just the way he used to, proud and confident no matter what life had thrown at him. All too painfully clearly, that wasn't the case anymore. 

Dad didn't sit down, not yet. He'd frozen in place the second he saw me, staring at me in what mostly came down to confusion. "Who… are you?", he managed, in a voice that sounded like he didn't use it all too often. It hurt me to hear him that way, especially combined with what I was seeing, because evidently his stay at this place hadn't been nearly as decent as mine in juvie. But it didn't change the fact that, above it all, he was still my dad. My greatest hero, even after eleven years of not being able to see him. Making it oh so hard to answer that question he'd asked.

But maybe I didn't have to.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, hesitating. Standing up again in what almost qualified as slow-motion, taking a step in his direction. Then another, and another, until we were standing just a few feet apart. I raised my hands to my head, already seeing how he was slowly realizing what I was about to do. One more deep breath, and I pushed my goggles up onto my forehead, meeting his eyes with mine that were the same unmistakable amber.

Somehow, I managed a smile. And, even more impressively: words, no matter how choked they actually came out of my mouth. "Hello, Dad."

Something changed in his expression, something that made his eyes go wide and his mouth go open, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't. Slowly, very slowly, he took a step forward, thereby closing the gap between us. Raising his arm as if he wanted to touch me, to make sure I wasn't a figment of his imagination. "Matthew", he worded at last, almost inaudible and more of a question than anything.

I couldn't say a word, only nod. But that was more than enough for him. Before I knew it, he'd wrapped his arms around my body, so tight I could barely breathe. Not that it mattered, because there I was, doing the same exact thing with him. I buried my head into his shoulder, as did he with mine, and for a long, long time, we didn't do anything else. The guards, mercifully, didn't tell us to stop; the only sounds in the room were the muffled sobs of Dad and me. The "Matthew, oh, Matthew" he kept whispering, as if he wanted to catch up on all the years he hadn't been there to say my name. But I didn't reply. I couldn't. Because in that moment, for the first time in almost a dozen years, I felt like a kid again, untouched by all the shit that had happened since then. And that was a feeling I wanted to cherish forever.

I didn't know how much time had passed when we finally separated, and I couldn't have given less of a shit. For another few seconds, we looked each other into our amber eyes that were still filled with tears, and then Dad lifted his hand to wipe those on my face away. "I missed you, my son", he said in his oh so quiet voice, but I could hear a hint of his former pride in there, see it on the smile slowly but surely appearing on his face.

I smiled back at him, returning the gesture. "I missed you too, Dad."

As I was wiping away the tears on his face, his eyes went to the scar on my hand. "What happened?", they asked now, as clearly as if he had said it aloud.

I swallowed hard, guiding him over to the two chairs in the room. Only when we'd sat down did I dare speak up again. "I'm sorry I've never been here", I said. "And that Mom's never shown up, either."

"Ariel", he whispered her name, and in that single word I could hear all the love he still felt for her. "How is she?"

I couldn't help but frown at that. "I don't know", I admitted. "I haven't seen her in almost as long as you." Before Dad could ask anything else, I took a deep breath, bending down to pull up one leg of my pants. Patty'd been right, I had completely forgotten about its existence apart from the moments I actually caught a glimpse of it, but there it was. That electronic ankle tag I now showed my dad.

"Matthew…", he began, but I shook my head, deciding to spare him the uncertainty. I'd spent the last several days racking my brain about how I was gonna tell him about all of this, after all.

"Mom told me what happened", I explained, keeping my questions - _You didn't actually kill someone, right?_ \- for later. "But she refused to let me visit you, no matter how much I was begging her to. So I couldn't take it anymore and ran away." I told him about my time on the streets, showed him the scar I'd gotten from that lighter, and went on about how all of that had gotten me stuck in juvie at age eight. Dad's frown seemed to grow bigger with every word I said, and still I didn't leave out any of the shitty stuff. I wanted him to know exactly what I'd had to put up with, wanted to make him understand how his teachings had carried me through it all. So I told him about juvie, about Emmett and Stinky and all the things we'd done for one another. Before I knew it, I'd pulled up my shirt as well, showing him the bulging black scar from so many years ago.

Dad didn't seem to be able to take his eyes off it, so I covered it again, and his eyes went up to meet mine. "Who did this to you?", he asked.

 _The guy standing behind me right now_ , I thought, wondering if Decker was showing any kind of visible reaction. But I didn't turn around, and I didn't feel like bringing it up, either. "Someone from juvie", was all I said. "Old stuff I barely think about anymore."

Dad nodded, not saying anything else because he looked like he was deep in thought. But he gestured me to go on, and so I did, finishing off with Patty and all the stuff we were doing these days. Dad's eyes lit up as I talked about where we were living now, although the sorrow in them never quite vanished completely.

"I'm glad you found yourself a pack", he told me at last, his voice so full of affection that my mouth went dry as he gave me the smile I hadn't seen in so long. "I couldn't be prouder of you, my son."

My pulse accelerated again, to the point where I was so overwhelmed that I couldn't reply if I wanted to. I couldn't even nod, only stare at him with an oh so grateful smile of my own.

Then, however, his one faded again. "You made it so far… but I should've been there for you. I'm so sorry I wasn't."

"Dad…" I gathered the strength to speak again, and when I did, I didn't hold back those feelings inside me. "You _were_ there. On every step of my journey. I'd never have made it this far without all the things you taught me… I'd be dead by now, honestly. Or without anyone I could call my friends. Even if you weren't actually there with me, you were _there_ , you know? I can't thank you enough, Dad. For everything."

"Oh, Matthew." Dad had tears in his eyes again, but he didn't even try blinking them away. For a long time, he didn't say anything else, but then he took a deep breath. "Still, I'm sorry. About… about the stuff that happened in the first place."

I knew what he was referencing, of course I did. I almost didn't want to bring it up, didn't want to find out about that particular night. But I had to. I had to know.

"Is it true?", I asked him, my voice quieter than before. "Mom told me you're here because…"

"Because I killed someone." Dad let out a heavy sigh, not meeting my eyes anymore. "Yeah. I guess that's what I did."

I stared at him, unable to speak, desperately hoping I'd misunderstood. When I'd remained silent for several long, agonizing seconds, he sighed again.

"I didn't mean to do it", he told me, his voice quiet and bitter. "Of course not. It was the other guy who picked the fight, because I guess I must've offended him somehow. He was drunk at the time anyway - and racist, considering the slurs he threw at me -, and if anything, he was the one who wouldn't have minded killing me for good. He attacked me, and I defended myself, and that's when it happened. I didn't mean to do anything more than knock him unconscious, you have to believe me on that."

He sounded almost desperate during that last part, and I gave him a quick, reassuring nod. "Of course, Dad. I know you'd never do something like that. Not on purpose."

"Thank you, son." He cracked a smile at me, one that was all grateful and genuine. "That means a lot."

"Someone's gotta believe you when nobody else gives a shit", I replied, and that only made his smile a bit wider. 

"I'm so proud of you, Matthew."

He'd said the same thing only minutes ago, and yet it touched me just as much this second time. "It's all thanks to you", I said, and then we both fell silent, just meeting each other's gaze and relishing the moment. Yeah, a lot of stuff had happened since back in the day, but he was still my dad all the same. And I was his son, no matter how the world was gonna try and screw us over next. There was a strange kind of comfort in that notion; a comfort that, at least for now, actually made me feel at peace.

"Hate to interrupt", Decker cut off my train of thought, as well as that moment between Dad and me. Dad's eyes went over to him immediately, and so I turned around as well, noticing in surprise how Decker actually sounded at least a little apologetic. "But you should start wrapping things up for now. We don't let visitors stay all that long."

Back in our time at juvie, I'd have snapped at him now, but I knew better than that these days. Not because Decker always got what he wanted and there was no point in fighting him, but because I'd learned that some things just weren't worth starting fights over. And this was one of them.

"Sure thing", I told Decker, though it didn't stop me from sounding disappointed. I turned back around to Dad, the weary smile returning to my face. "Sorry I can't stay… but I'm not gonna let you wait this many years again. Same time next week?"

Dad smiled back at me, and in that moment, I was sure this was the happiest he'd looked - and felt - in a good eleven years. "I can't wait. And… bring your friends too, if you want. I'd love to meet them someday."

"I'll ask them", I nodded, and then I pulled Dad into another hug. It didn't last as long as the other one, but still, I embraced it as much as possible until we finally let go again. "Keep fighting", I told him, the same thing he'd always said to me when I was younger.

And there it was again, the smile that looked exactly like the one back in the day. The one that still made me feel so many things I didn't have words for at all. "I will. See you around, son."

I nodded once more, then walked over to Decker. When I took a glance back, I saw Dad still standing there, watching me.

"C'mon", Decker muttered, and with a far more gentle push than back in juvie, he shoved me out into the hallway again. I snapped out of it the second he shut the door behind us, letting him lead me back into the lobby.

We didn't say anything for a while. But then, Decker did, his voice surprisingly solemn.

"Why didn't you tell him?"

I knew exactly what he meant, of course. That mess of a scar he was responsible for. "That was ages ago", I said. "Not really a point in bringing it up." I hesitated a moment, but then I went on. "Of course I hated you back in the day, you know I did. But a lot of stuff has changed for me since then. I'm not that much of a spiteful jerk anymore… so I guess I was kinda giving you the benefit of the doubt there, too. There's a lot life can do to you over the course of an entire decade."

"True enough", he replied, glancing at me over his shoulder. "It isn't gonna fix the stuff that happened, I know… but I'm sorry. For the shit with the tasers and all."

I blinked in surprise, though he couldn't really see that with me having my goggles back on. Was I hearing that right? What was I even supposed to reply? "Thanks", I said in the end. "I'll make sure to tell Stinky."

"No, I - I'm gonna tell him myself." Decker squared his shoulders. "How about we go and have dinner sometime? Pretty sure I can recommend you guys some good places around town, since you're all kind of new to this and stuff."

For a moment, all I could do was stare at him. Was this really the same guy who'd essentially tortured Stinky and me back in the day? No, but I wasn't the same person as back then anymore, either. "Sounds nice", I admitted. "We can set it up when I'm bringing the others next time."

He hummed in agreement. "Looking forward to it."

As weird as it sounded, so was I.

"Well, see you then, Decker", I said when we reached the lobby again.

He snorted. "You can call me Jason, you know."

"Chopper", I told him in return, my smile widening at his momentarily dumbstruck expression. But then, it shifted into a smile as well, and he slapped me on the back so forcefully that I had to catch my footing again. It hadn't hurt, however, and I knew that he hadn't meant it to.

"Chopper it is", Decker - no, Jason - said, nodding. "See you around."

"Until next time", I agreed, knowing that I'd come back here to see Dad as often as I could. I looked him into the eyes, even if he couldn't see mine, my smile shifting into a grin. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

With that, I turned to the exit, still grinning to myself as I headed back outside. Moments before I was gone, I could hear his reply, just as well as I heard his scoff that honestly sounded more amused than bitter. "I didn't think I would."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are now, caught up with everything that needed to be told. What a ride.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did writing it! Definitely not the last thing I'm gonna put out for this fandom. Stay tuned :3


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